


When Edom Remains

by Hermit9



Series: Pristine Comes Unclean [1]
Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Assumed Character Death, BAMF Magnus Bane, Blow Jobs, Frottage, Grieving, Happy Ending, M/M, Malec turning to Malace, Possession, Smut, Soul Bond, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-12-12
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:21:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 20,850
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27660607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hermit9/pseuds/Hermit9
Summary: Magnus kills Jonathan Morganstern during one to one combat in the heart of Alicante. He did it for all the right reasons. Living with the consequences of his choices is another matter.
Relationships: Alec Lightwood/Jace Wayland, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood, Magnus Bane/Alec Lightwood/Jace Wayland
Series: Pristine Comes Unclean [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2045902
Comments: 22
Kudos: 96





	1. Aftermath of Alicante

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [When Edom Descends](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24240253) by [Aria_Lerendeair](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aria_Lerendeair/pseuds/Aria_Lerendeair). 



> With thanks to [Slyvir](https://archiveofourown.org/users/slyvir) for being my sounding board and cheerleader on this. 
> 
> Beta by [AceonIce](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceOnIce/pseuds/AceOnIce)
> 
> And of course the biggest of thanks to [Aria Lerendair](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aria_Lerendeair/pseuds/Aria_Lerendeair) for letting me play in her sandbox. 
> 
> This is a remix of [When Edom Descends](https://archiveofourown.org/works/24240253) and will make no sense if you haven't read the original. I diverge from Aria's story about 2/3 of the way down. So go read her glorious BAMF Magnus and then come back.
> 
> Alright, everyone up to speed? Mind the tags and enjoy!

Pain lanced through Magnus, in one sweeping wave. It was a pain of absence, the ocean receding after a tsunami, the waters of power dragging back most of what made him _himself_. He felt small, and weak, and confused. The world was tinted with black and grey, his vision blurred. He wasn’t walking and yet he was moving, choppily, in an uneven manner. Being carried away. Magnus blinked his eyes open, trying to push through the exhaustion and the sludge of his mind, trying to remember. Black leather pressed against his cheek. He looked up, the minute movement of his neck making the world swim and threaten to push him back to unconsciousness. But he needed to see Alexander, see that he was still here, still holding him.

When his vision cleared, he wasn’t looking at Alexander at all.

Jace’s expression was determined, but the flex in his jaw and the fear that shone in his eyes betrayed him. Why was Jace holding him in a bridal carry? 

Behind them screams arose. Jace stopped running, tensing and almost crushing Magnus to him in some reflexive action. A second later Magnus understood. It wasn’t just screams. It was _Alexander_ screaming. Not just from pain, there was pain but there was also so much more in the sound being ripped from him. Magnus struggled to get free and for a moment Jace held him back, runes flaring on his skin in searing gold. Only for a moment, then the Shadowhunter dropped him unceremoniously. Jace fell to his knees, mouth open in a silent scream and curved inward until his forehead touched the ground. Magnus couldn’t see his expression, but he didn’t need to. 

Behind them, exactly where Magnus left the corpse of Jonathan Morgenstern, Alexander had fallen to his knees as well. No, not just fallen. He’d been brought down to his knees by pressure so great it should have killed him by any means. The same force created a crater around Alexander, shattering the paving stones like so many twigs, leaving the physical proof of impact. The force that was Edom, purple and black, fire and anger and hatred, descending from the healing rift and pouring itself into Alexander. 

“No, no,” Magnus sobbed, stumbling forward. Alexander wasn’t fighting, wasn’t offering any resistance whatsoever. Worse, he’d taken all of his defenses down, runes inert like mundane ink on his skin even as he screamed from being unmade almost, almost, at a molecular level. Magnus had no strength left in his legs, no air in his lungs and yet he crawled back towards the funnel of magic. Edom couldn’t, wouldn’t, hurt him, even as depleted as he was. Except like this. In the only way that could destroy him. 

“Stop, you have to stop!” he shouted — at Alec, at the primal force that no longer obeyed his orders. At any benevolent entity that could intervene. Not that it did any good. 

There was no tapering off, no slowing. Just the torrent of demonic energy and then nothing. In the deafening silence Alexander remained kneeling in the center of the destruction. Immobile. Like a statue, or some human shaped brazier. Fire danced on him, through him, from his skin, his eyes (open towards the sky and unblinking), his mouth (still shaping that terrible, horrible scream). Magnus scrambled down to him, summoning strength he wasn’t sure he had and magic he knew would cost him later, aiming to quench that terrible fire, to heal, to perhaps shape the hope of savi— he cut that thought. He couldn’t allow himself to doubt. He was going to save him, because he refused to consider any other possibility. What good was the world, if it didn’t have Alec in it? 

Magnus reached out for Alec and the fire on his skin shivered, curling around Magnus’ hand as if it was something alive, as innocuous as the tentacles of an anemone purring under his touch. Magnus refused to acknowledge that fact and pushed his healing magic into Alexander. Only there was nothing there there to heal. If anything the magic flared and flowed back into Magnus, soothing aches and coiling in the voids of his spent strength. It spread comforting warmth through him, and it all felt so _so_ wrong.

“Alec?” Magnus called, cautious.

Alec turned his head to face him, slowly like the movement was new or he wasn’t quite sure how to control his own body. His eyes were a dark, glowing purple without a pupil, the same color as the magic that had submerged him, the color of _Edom_. “No,” he breathed. “No! You can’t take him from me! Give him back!” 

“Magnus?” Izzy called out to him. Magnus struggled to remember why Izzy would be here, where _here_ even was. It didn’t matter, not faced with the horror of his own folly and its price. “Magnus,” Izzy said again. “What’s going on? I can’t wake Jace up, my iratze isn’t working. Is Alec ok? Magnus, talk to me!”

He winced at her tone, at the fear she was barely keeping at bay. It echoed with his own, with his guilt. 

““Alexander—” He tried again, pleading. 

**“No. Not any longer.”** Hearing the guttural harshness of the demonic language spilling from Alec’s mouth punched a sob out of Magnus. He watched as Alec — no, as Alec’s body — got to his feet in agonizing, staggering steps. Each movement was smoother than the one preceding it. But the way he stood, the way he carried his weight was wrong. There was none of the Shadowhunter’s grace in it, none of Alec’s stiff-backed parade rest or his bashful, smiling slouch that was just for Magnus. The fire was gone from him, or rather not gone, only reeled in and controlled. Alec’s runes flickered with the purple glint of that power, angelic still in form but turned into a perverted window into hellish depths. 

“Bring him back,” he pleaded. The words were a breath, and Magnus wasn’t sure they could be heard outside of his breaking heart. 

**“No,”** Edom answered. It wasn’t unkind, but firm and unequivocal. **“It is done, my King. He made his deal.”**

There was an answer Magnus wanted to give to that, one he was sure could open a window of negotiations. Deals, Demonic Deals, has been his father’s trade and Asmodeus had trained him well as an eventual heir. There would be a loophole, a clause he could use for his benefit. A way to undo this horror. But Magnus’ mind was blank, he couldn’t think, couldn't find the words, couldn’t breathe or move. The eyes that weren’t Alec’s were still on him, and there was no expression in the face around them, no smile on the lips below. Magnus licked his lips, feeling the dry and cracked skin there, and those eyes didn’t flicker down to follow the movement, didn’t narrow with humor. 

“Magnus!” Izzy’s voice again. Closer, out of breath and panting. Magnus slowly turned to face her, turning his back on the thing that wasn’t Alec anymore, that only wore his skin like a paper thin disguise. 

Izzy had dragged Jace to the edge of the depression. Her brother’s eyes were open and fixed, unseeing. He was on the floor next to her, flopped over like a rag doll where she’d stopped supporting him. It took a long, too long, moment for Magnus to realize that Jace was still breathing. Breathing short, shallow, breaths that barely made his chest move. As if he was drowning in the open air.

Other noises filtered in, from a few steps behind them. More shadowhunters, not any he’d consider friends. Armed, afraid, reeling from the destruction of most of their city. All of them had weapons out, war runes glowing on their skins. Izzy didn’t react, didn’t turn to look at them. Why would she, those were her people. The very ones she and her sibling had been fighting to protect, the reason Alec….

“Warlock Bane,” a Shadowhunter barked. Magnus knew his name, knew that he didn’t particularly like him. If he wasn’t a Circle member he was at least a sympathizer with little regard for the Downworld. Beyond that, he was one with the mass and Magnus cared nothing for proper identification. From the corner of his eye he could see Helen and Aline making their way through the ranks. Not fast enough. “You will come with us and explain what in the name of the Angel just happened.”

“High Warlock,” Magnus said with a shake of his head. “And no. I don’t think I will.”

“You seem to be under the impression that I was asking,” The Shadowhunter took one step forward, adjusting his grip around a Seraph blade. 

“And you seem deluded into thinking you can cower me,” Magnus snapped, angry now. He let that anger grow, chasing away some of the apathy. His magic reacted to the emotion, surging around his hand. Magnus felt his glamour drop, didn’t try to bring it back up. He met the Shadowhunter’s eyes and smirked as the man took half a step back. “I took down the man that slaughtered your population, killed the Mother of Demons, and saved your precious city. If anything, you should be groveling before me.”

“You dare—?” the man started, but Magnus snapped his fingers and his voice was gone. 

“Yes,” Magnus said, as if that had been the only question and not the start of a tirade. “And now I will take my leave. I’ll send you the invoice, for my services.” He pulled at his magic and it came easily, greedily, to his call. “Ms. Lightwood, I am going back to my lair in New York. Would you like to head back as well?” He tilted his head as if he was only asking out of politeness, even though he was hanging on white-knuckled to the mask of his personna before that, too, cracked. 

To her credit, Izzy didn’t hesitate. She hauled Jace over her shoulders in a fireman’s carry and carefully picked her way down the crater to join him. Magnus flicked his fingers to the side, opening a portal to his house. It opened with a swirling hiss but he couldn’t feel the drain in his magic, the inherent cost of such a thing. He did, however, feel the barely there press of Alec’s… or not Alec’s fingers against his other wrist. The power was being channeled from him, it, _her_. Edom, making sure he knew she was still his, even as she defied the one order he’d given her. 

They stepped into the loft and the portal closed behind them. Then, and only then, did Magnus allow himself to cry.

When he came back to himself it was in pieces. The hardness of the floor beneath his knees. The tightness of his throat. The burning dryness of his eyes, where he’d long since run out of tears. The warmth and pressure holding down his hands. Magnus blinked, staring without comprehending.

“You were clawing at yourself,” Izzy said. Her tone is oddly flat. “I stopped you.”

“Thank you,” Magnus answered, or at least he thinks he does. The words felt like rocks in his mouth, tumbling from dried lips. He could taste copper and iron, probably a split lip or he bit himself. A new fear suddenly seized him. If he lost control of his emotions, lost himself this much… “Did I hurt you?” he asked, looking up to meet Izzy’s eyes.

“No.” She shook her head. Her braid had become undone and stray hair stuck to the side of her face. She’d been crying too. “If anything you were determined to hurt yourself.” She let go of him and Magnus missed the contact as soon as it was gone. Izzy crossed the loft and came back with two glasses of water, pushing one at Magnus and giving him a stern look until he drank it all. That one she learned from Maryse, in her command days. “Now, are you going to tell me what happened to my brothers?” 

He didn’t want to. By all the gods he didn’t want to have to tell her that Alec was… because of him. And Jace, his parabatai, probably felt every excruciating second of it. No surprise he’d gone catatonic. The pain alone would have been enough to… Movement catched Magnus’ eye. In the shadow, near the doors to the balcony: the massive, towering figure of Alec turning to face him, reacting to his distress. Magnus took a deep breath, reeled his magic under control. Control, afterall, was the first lesson for all warlocks. 

“Help me up,” he said and Izzy took his hand without hesitating, pulling with a grunt. Would she be another one he’d lose? He wondered if there would be enough left of him to sustain the sting of her abandonment. 

“Magnus, what is it? You look like you’re marching to your grave, not your living room.” 

Magnus smiled, a small rueful thing that wouldn’t have convinced anyone even on a better day. “In many ways, I am.” 

Jace occupied the couch, legs hanging over the side and dangling there. It was achingly familiar, the same way Alec used to fall asleep after patrols. He’d wake up with pins and needles and be grouchy until Magnus coaxed him to bed… He shook away the memory and focused on Jace. He was still breathing in that terrible way, gasping in silence. A sheen of sweat covered his skin but there was no shiver, no fever behind it. 

“I’ve seen this before,” Izzy said, sitting on the edge of the couch. She reached out to run her fingers through Jace’s hair, fixing the stray locks into place. “Only you were by his side then, pleading with Alec to come back—”

“From overstressing the parabatai bound,” Magnus finished for her. “I remember. I can check him out, see if there is anything I can do to help him.”

“And Alec?” 

Magnus shook his head, trying to find the words but Izzy didn’t leave him time. 

“Because I don’t know what happened, but _that_ ,” she continued and then pointed at Alec, hovering now behind the couch, hands limp at his side and head cocked in curiosity, “is _not_ my brother.” 

“I know,” Magnus whispered.

“You know?” Izzy’s eyes snapped up to meet his. Whatever words she meant to say next Isabelle swallowed, looking at Magnus for a long, hard, moment. The anger banking her went out. “Of course you knew.”

Magnus didn’t answer. He summoned magic to his hands that had no business flowing this easily from his drained carcass. Now that he was paying attention he could see the barely there link between him and Edom. It was like water trickling down a chain, down to his core. An inexhaustible well he could tap into, churning, wanting. Alec’s lips curled in a filthy smile and he _purred_. 

The resistance when he touched Jace wasn’t unexpected. Valentine’s tinkering and the extra dose of angel blood made for subconsciously magic resistant Shadowhunters. Magnus had been surprised by it before, when Clarissa had first been brought to him. It was stronger in Jace, more developed as an automatic mechanism against the horrors of his early years and the subsequent military training. So it wasn’t unexpected, but as Magnus sank his magic into him, a simple diagnostic probe, it was also utterly wrong. Once he went past the defensive wall, it was as if his magic was being not just tolerated but welcomed. That was not something Magnus was used to. In fact, there was only one person who reacted this way—

A sudden blow back pushed Magnus away, the shockwave sending both the couch and Jace to skid into the wall. Izzy was thrown towards the corridor and Magnus… Magnus was on the floor, a few steps aways from where he’d been standing. But he was also being held. Alec’s arms pulling him against his chest and Alec’s leg bracing against the force so that Magnus did not get injured. Magnus hadn’t seen him move. He turned his head and stopped when he could see the expression on Alec’s face. Alec was _sneering_ , angry and feral.

 **“Mine,”** he hissed against Magnus’ ear. His hold tightened, threatening to fall on the wrong side of painful. There was a presence in the room around them, not quite something tangible but something that could be felt. It made the apartment tremble in a chime of glass against glass, like the aura of doom before an earthquake. Something too large for the brain to comprehend but enough for the animal instincts to scream about, to tell the people to run, to hide, perhaps to pray. Only there was nowhere to run. 

From across the room Jace let out a painfed whine, his back in a taut arc as he trashed about. Maybe a seizure. Maybe trying to wake up. Magnus had no way to tell for sure. Izzy groaned as she got up, the electric snap of her whip unfurled telegraphing her intent to fight. It was brave and ultimately pointless and Magnus refused to be the cause for more Lighwood grief. 

“Yes,” he said, in concession, in submission. “I’m yours. Of course I’m yours.” He strained his neck as he closed his eyes, leaned backward and up, until he found Alec’s jaw. He pressed his face against Alec’s, his lips at the corner of Alec’s lips in a chaste kiss. “You claimed me. As you said, it is done.” Magnus kept his eyes shut, thankful for the fact that he truly had no more tears left to shed. He closed his left fist, nails digging into his palms and the bones of his fingers pressing the metal of his rings painfully against the flesh. Of his ring. Alexander’s ring. 

The terrible pressure eased, retreating back inside of Alec. “ **Good,** ” Edom said as she claimed Magnus’ mouth in a searing kiss. It tasted of magic and power and, by all of the damned souls, of _Alexander_. When Magnus figured it was safe he pressed a hand against Alec’s chest and gently untangled himself. He was allowed to go and Magnus got the distinct impression he might not always be so lucky. 

A noise came from Izzy but Magnus was quick enough to turn around and signal for her to stay quiet. Thankfully she was as sharp as her siblings, sharper even, and she opted to glare at him. Her whip coiled itself back around her wrist. 

“Sorry about that,” Magnus said. “It seems that my magic might be… a bit unstable at the moment.” He looked over at Jace who, somehow, was looking better despite the generous dusting of plaster he’d gained. His breathing had stabilized and he no longer looked like he was at Death’s door. “I will send for Catarina for a consultation. But I think we all need a good night's sleep?” 

“Of course. You must be exhausted after the fight. I’m sorry for pushing. I’ll—” The hiss and crackle of fire messages interrupted Izzy. She snatched half a dozen of them from the air, frowning at their content. When the last one had consumed itself to ashes she sighed. “I’m going to keep the Clave off your back as long as possible, but Magnus… they are scared and they are angry. I won’t be able to stall them for very long.”

“How much time can you get without putting yourself at risk?”

“A week? Maybe?” She shrugged. “I know how to use the bureaucracy against itself but with half of Alicante destroyed and Imogen’s grand-son incapacitated and Alec…” She risked a glance at Alec, who was still standing behind Magnus. Magnus wondered what she saw, what her blood and her heart were telling her. “With Alec not answering his phone, I’m not sure the protocols are going to be everyone’s priority.” 

A dry laugh forced itself from Magnus’ throat. As if there was a manual somewhere in the Guard that covered even a fraction of the last twenty-four hours. “I will endeavour to work quickly.” 

Taking the dismissal for what it was, Izzy gathered her things and, with one long almost pained look at the three people she was leaving behind, walked out of the door. 

The silence in her wake was almost alien. 

“ **You need rest,** ” Alec said, hooking his chin over Magnus’ shoulder. He gently wrapped his arms around Magnus in a loose hug. 

It would be so easy to pretend it was all going to be fine, that the world had not ended on that plazza. It was easy. Magnus sagged, leaning against the solid warmth of Alec’s chest. “Yes. I could sleep for a moment.” He closed his eyes and let Alec guide him to their room, limp in the thrall of resignation. The sheets were the same as they had been this morning, smelling of sandalwood and of Alec. Even the heartbeat under his cheek was similar enough, the skin familiar.

Magnus welcomed the blackout relief of dreamless sleep.

"Oh fuck, come on, I just woke up guys!"

Magnus blinked a few times, disturbed by the noise, until his brain was able to parse the disturbance. The voice was Jace’s, sounding sleep-roughed and tired but surprisingly healthy considering _everything_. The shadowhunter was standing in the doorway to the bedroom, stripped of his jacket and weapons. Jace’s torso was turned away, his head mostly facing the wall. He was blushing, which was curious. Magnus had never known Jace to be bashful. And yet the flush on his cheek (that reached down his neck) was unmistakable. For all his bluster, Jace hadn’t completely turned his back on Magnus. He was — quite deliberately — keeping Magnus at the edge of his peripheral vision, with his eyes panic wide and his jaw slightly unhinged. 

That was a new development. Jace had never been even slightly voyeuristic. If anything, he was more into brazenly displaying his own string on conquests in some hedonistic point game that edged on exhibitionism. 

“I see you’re feeling better. Did you need anything?”

“Yeah, I—” Jace made a strange aborted movement, trying at once to turn towards and away from the bedroom. “Listen, could you... I don’t know. Grab a modesty sheet?” 

Magnus took a breath, intent of finding a way to answer in a tease that wouldn’t be scatting. He’d gone to bed in the clothes he’d worn that day and if the outfit had been good enough to fight it was certainly decent enough to be rudely woken in. Magnus looked down at himself and adrenaline rushed to slam him all the way into awareness. The clothes he’d been wearing had been removed, or maybe burnt, in his sleep. He was still lying on Alec’s chest and was wrapped in his arms, with one of Alec’s leg hooked over his hip and the other intertwined between his own. The sheets had been deliberately pushed away, ruffled into a circle that served only to frame the two of them in gold silk. The reason Magnus hadn’t noticed the cold — or even a breeze — was that the space immediately surrounding them was dancing with Edom’s fire. It rippled with his breath, lapping at his skin, as tame and harmless as his own magic. 

“Why don’t you get some tea started,” Magnus said to Jace. He didn’t look up at the mumbled acknowledgement. He looked at Alec instead. “I remember clothes.” 

“ **They were in the way. I wanted to see you, to feel you.** ” Edom flexed her arms, as if she could hold Magnus any closer than she was. The flames grew to surround them like a translucent cocoon. “ **This… corporal form is not wholly unpleasant.** ” There was a softness in her eyes now, an idle form of curiosity. It matched the gentle trailing of fingers, mapping the shapes of his arms and shoulders. 

It reminded Magnus of Alec’s innocence at the start of their courtship and the memory was a punch to the guts. “You are never to do that without my explicit order,” he snapped.

“ **Yes, my king,** ” Edom answered, licking her lips as if the order had been the most delicious treat. She sounded neither sorry nor abashed at her actions however. 

The movement caught Magnus’ eye and he followed it against his will, eyes dropping to Alec’s lips. Lips he wanted desperately to lean forward and catch in a kiss. Instead he pulled away, untangling himself from limbs and sheets and flames. Magnus summoned a loose pair of lounge pants and a tank top he usually reserved for training. Decent if underdressed, he picked his way to the kitchen. 

Jace leaned against the countertop, staring at the teapot without seeing it. He looked lost, vulnerable in a way that he usually didn't allow others to see. Magnus' heart went out to him: the loss of a parabatai was the most intimate of pains. Alec had been a mess and Jace's death had been quick and, all things considered, clean.

“My apologies,” Magnus said as he approached, sitting on a high stool by the counter. “What did you mean to ask?”

“You don’t need to apologize,” Jace said, snapping out of whatever contemplation he was in. “I’m the one crashing at your place, again.” He ran a hand through his hair. The gel or pomade that usually kept his signature look in place wasn’t strong enough to face the last day. It made Jace look his age, somehow. All of these Shadowhunters were so, so very young. 

Jace picked up the teapot, swirling it gently to dissolve some of the thick slurry of sugar at the bottom. He reached into a cupboard with his other hand with no hesitation. He grabbed a small glass from the very back. It swirled with a kaleidoscope of colours in fractal geometric patterns. Magnus felt his mouth go dry. Alec had picked that, on one of their first dates when Magnus had finally dragged him off for proper lamb in Marrakech. They’d walked through the souk on their way back, unhurried and glamoured so that the crowd parted around them like a perfect bubble of contentment. The merchant had nothing but average grade goods, no precious metals or gemstones but Alec had reached for the tea set. He’d been delighted at the play of colours. Magnus had better and fancier ones, but Alec’s smiles were still rare in those days. And the pure unadulterated joy when Alec looked back at him meant he’d bought the entire set, just for the promise of better smiles. 

Now Jace was the one who filled it with tea and placed it in front of Magnus. And not just tea. Black tea rubbed with vanilla and spooned over sugar, with the water poured over and then cooled with milk until the temperature was perfect. Just the way Alexander had perfected for post morning battles. How had Jace even...? Not for the first time, Magnus wondered just how much the parabatai bound covered, or how far the details Alec confided into his brother went. 

“Jace…” Magnus started but he was interrupted.

“So yeah. I meant to ask if you still had some of my clothes around or, maybe I could borrow some of Alec’s? I reek, I want a shower and someplace to sleep without a kink in my back.” He paused. Then added, lowering his voice, “Please don’t… Don’t send me away. Not right now.” 

Magnus felt his heart constrict at the request. It was a plea, begging, filled with the certitude that it wouldn't be fulfilled. “Of course,” he said. “You can stay as long as you’d like, Jace.”

“Yeah?” Jace looked up to Magnus through his bangs and the combination with the slouch and the soft smile… For a moment his eyes seemed hazel instead of blue or even gold. 

Magnus took a long shuddering breath and swallowed around his suddenly desert parched throat.

“Alec loves you so much, you know?” Jace half-whispered breaking the eye contact after what was probably too long. Magnus didn’t care. 

“Loved,” Magnus whispered back and the single word was all he could force out. The finality of it in the world, the dourness of a past tense that should not have come for years, decades, lifetimes. 

Jace shook his head. “Loves. Now, always. You think I don’t know my parabatai and can’t tell his emotions when he’s in the same damned room? Come on…” Jace looked up, over Magnus’ shoulder and the trickle of power should have warned Magnus that Alec was standing there. But it hadn’t, not until now. 

“Of course you can stay. The things you left behind are in the guest bedroom.” He reached to clasp Jace’s forearm in a reassuring gesture. 

Unbidden his magic surged. It leaped from Magnus in arcs, sinking into Jace. The Shadowhunter opened for it with a surprised, almost grateful gasp. That strange familiar feeling was back and Magnus' felt his magic chase after it like bifurcated lightning seeking its path. Before it could reach whatever it was seeking, Jace pulled his arm away. His eyes had gone wide and fearful. 

Belatedly, Magnus remembered that Jace had mentioned Alec being in the room. He was standing at the edge of the counter, glaring at the two of them. Flames ran along the stone and over Magnus, harmless except for where Magnus had been touching Jace. There the flesh had sizzled and burnt under the dry unrelenting heat. 

Magnus reeled in his magic, his and Edom's, but it was too much power and not enough finesse. The sudden absence left a dull concussive force behind. Jace staggered, braced by the sink behind him. On the counter between them the glass shattered into millions of tiny coloured needles lost in the murky cooling tea.

“Ok,” Jace wheezed, “how about we _never_ try this again?” 

“I’m so sorry Jace,” Magnus started before the apology was waved away.

“I’ve had worse. At least you didn’t mean it.” As he spoke there was a soft golden glow to his eyes that echoed the one from below his ribs, muted by the cotton of his shirt. The flesh began to knit itself and heal, leaving nothing for slightly pink new skin. “But yeah. Clothes, shower. Good talk.” Jace edged his way out of the kitchen, avoiding both Magnus’ and Alec’s eyes. 

“ **He reeks of angels** ,” Alec said as he closed the distance between him and Magnus. “ **But we could make his blood spill sweetly before us**.” Long fingers wrapped around Magnus’ neck, digging at the tension there just _right_ before moving down to his shoulders. “ **It’d be a fitting offering to a king.** ” One of the knots where the tendon joined the shoulder was worked free and the pain and relief flooded through Magnus, making him sway back and into Alec. 

“Don’t kings need subjects and allies?” 

**“Humm,** ” Edom answered in consideration. 

It wasn’t an actual answer but Magnus would take it. He banished the mess of broken glass and drying milk, rewarded by a pleased purr. The massage felt good, especially as Alec dropped kisses down his throat following the clever path of his hands. Magnus closed his eyes.

Somewhere in the loft, a shower ran and ran and ran and whatever noise the water swallowed he did not know. 

Magnus didn’t know when exactly Jace had left the loft. He found that time had become a stranger. He moved from second to second, clinging to moments because that allowed him to keep his eyes down where he didn’t have to have the event horizon of an eternity with Alec and yet not. Terror lurked there, in the rest of his immortal days with the image of his love and none of his light even as Alec held on to him tight enough to bruise.

He wanted to confide in Ragnor, but even the ghost of his friend couldn’t console him. There wasn’t enough whiskey to drown his sorrow and Magnus was wise enough not to test the possessive boundaries of Edom by seeking comfort in the bodies of strangers. That left work as an escape. He’d never been very creative in his coping mechanisms. Magnus reached for his planner, called back enough people to fill his appointment book. Mundanes, all of them. Most of them having waited for months or years on a list they thought was probably an urban legend. They would want simple things, like clear skin or a good singing voice. Some might demand something exhausting enough that Magnus could let himself believe there would be a challenge in it. 

A message blinked on his cell phone, unopened. Catarina. He couldn’t face her worry. It’d break what was left of him.


	2. With tradition we ourselves imprison

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With thanks to [TapBluesNLindyhopDancer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TapBluesNLindyhopDancer) for letting me pester her with questions about grief and culture and making sure the Simon scene read true.

Jace winced as he cinched the belt of his thigh holsters. The skin of his arm was healed, but still felt raw rubbing against the leather of his jacket’s sleeve. He could still feel the acidic fire burn of it. It was one more thing to add to the list of everything that was wrong. One in a long list. He’d have to get Clary and Izzy aside to discuss this. Jace wasn’t sure there was anyone else he’d trust right now, back at the Institute. Maybe Underhill. 

When had he started trusting Underhill? 

Hesitation made him stop at the door of the loft, but Magnus was still sitting in the kitchen, exactly as he’d left him. He was against Alec with his eyes closed and his back to the door. Alec had his arms around him, as if he was trying to wrap all of himself around Magnus, removing any and all distance between them. Something in the sight made Jace’s stomach turn. It felt like getting a mouthful of ichor on patrol mixed with the panic brought by the gentle disappointed sigh of his father. Of _Valentine_. 

The run to the Institute helped clear his head at least. Cutting through the city before the sidewalks filled was a fun challenge. Jace knew most of the alleys, the places he could climb to reach rooftops and where runes could make him jump if there was no path. All the ways that could take him home the fastest. 

Activity in the Institute was subdued. More than even it’d been in the last few months, which was saying a lot. Raj nodded at him in passing, hoisting up the white banner over the main area. The subtle silver sheen of the mourning rune caught the light as the fabric settled. They’ve held too many funerals. Too many by far and yet less than others after the massacre he was instrumental to. 

“He’s waiting for you,” Raj said. “Good luck.” 

Jace wished he could sneer at the blessing but Raj meant it, so that could only be a warning for one specific thing. He opened the door of the office and there sat Robert Lightwood in the black-on-black uniform of his Clave duties. Sitting behind Alec’s desk and leafing through reports as if this was his Institute still. As if he was in charge now like he’d been for the best parts of Jace’s childhood. _In many ways he still was. In charge that is._

“Sir,” Jace said as the door closed behind him. He planted his feet and clasped his hands at his back, shoulders straight. 

“Relax Jace, take a seat. This isn’t a formal inquiry. I just need to get some details so I can fill the paperwork.” Robert waited until Jace sat down on the couch, walking around the desk to perch on a corner as casual as he ever got. “First of all how are you? The debriefing that I got from Idris mentioned that you were incapacitated? I’m glad to see you’ve recovered.”

“Fine, I am just fine,” Jace said with growing confusion. What he left unsaid was all the things being shoved under the umbrella of that one word. He was fine for definitions that included having felt his parabatai dying less than a full day ago. Having felt the flames on his skins and in his bones as if he was burning alongside Alec. How he was fine and Robert was taking the time to ask and genuinely _care_ about the answer, a luxury that Alec wouldn’t have been given.

“Good, that’s good to hear. Magnus is always so generous with his healing for you and Alec, isn’t he?”

“He loves Alec. Of course, he won’t send him a bill for being by his bedside.”

“And you and Izzy? Or the Fairchild girl? You fall under the same discount reason?”

Jace frowned, confused. He didn’t know what Robert was looking for. “We’re his friends. Magnus likes taking care of his friends and those he chose as family.”

“I see…” Robert typed a few things on the tablet by his hip. “Well, I guess it can be comforting, having that ace up your sleeve. As long as it doesn’t make you reckless.”

“Me? Reckless?”

Robert smiled at that but didn’t answer. They both knew Jace’s record and all the things that had been left out of the official reports. Robert had somehow always known, from the “book club” on Jace’s days off to the patrols that fell on the thrill-seeking side of things. As a teenager, he’d had talks about needing to be careful and safe. Not so much recently. Mostly it came as reprimands attached to Alec’s action reports. Or Alec’s budget approvals. Really anything that fell outside of perfect fell on _Alec_ as the heir and leader, acting or official.

“I’m not going to keep you here for too long. You deserve your rest. I just need your recollection of the demon attack on Alicante.” 

“Where do you want me to start?”

“Why don’t you start when the demon towers fell? I think I can track your general whereabouts until then, but you were technically off duty.”

Jace nodded. It made sense. There’d be plenty of eyewitnesses at the party itself. 

“We stepped out on the balcony when the first tower fell.”

“We who?”

“Isabelle, Clary and me.”

“Where was Alec?”

“He had a meeting, with Consul Penhallow.” Jace replied off-hand then frowned. There was no way that wasn’t a known fact. Why was Robert asking questions when he already knew the answers, no, already held the facts in his hands? 

“And then?”

“We split up. Izzy went to get Alec and Clary and I went outside to find Jonathan.”

“Did you find him?”

Jace shrugged “Clary tried to talk him down but he was past reason. All he said was that he wanted to burn the city to the ground. Then Magnus and Alec showed up.”

Robert hummed at that. “Just how did Magnus get into the city? It’s not as if the Downworlders are welcome in Idris.”

“Except at the Guard, as prisoners, corralled to be killed publically. Or when they are being rounded up to get used as lab rats, tortured and experimented on, in the hopes of some genocidal cleanse?” Jace was surprised by the venom in his words as he answered. It churned low in his guts in a mix of fire and nausea.

"The Law—" Robert started. 

"Is the Law but it is interpreted by fallible people and has been used to justify atrocities.”

Robert had the good grace to look uncomfortable so Jace swallowed the rest of it. He pushed back the memory of Rafael Santiago, mundane, vulnerable in ways he’d never seen him before. And the burning question of justice, of “what if the Clan Leaders decided they could just grab Shadowhunters and derune them in secret”. The Clave had more than earned enough blood on its hands to justify it. What if that pound of flesh was claimed out of Izzy. Out of _Max_. Jace had never been this passionate about the subject: Downworld relations were more Alec’s domain than his. Jace took a deep breath to settle down his emotions and separate them from the parabatai bond. This was Alec’s anger. 

“The Clave’s past action isn’t the topic today. I’m not saying you’re wrong, but maybe we should come back to it later.”

“Fine,” said Jace and he forced a smile. He’d have to talk to Alec, get his brother to stop bottling this up. They’d both been teenagers, the last time the bound had been this interweaved that they blurred into slightly less than two, more than one. 

“So Magnus and Alec joined you in the grand plaza. And then?”

“And then Magnus killed Jonathan. Couldn’t have happened to a nicer guy. Magnus did something, made all the wraiths swarm him until they disappeared. Then he was flying, fighting against Lilith with Alec… and then something happened with the rift.”

“Can you specify?”

“The rift, the amount of power pouring from it. It broke something in Edom, possibly Edom itself. And all that energy couldn’t just… disappear. Magnus tried to control it, and then Alec intervened. I’m a little bit hazy, after that.”

“Why is that?”

Jace looked at Robert in utter disbelief. “Because my _parabatai_ was on _fire_ at that point.” He wants to add that Alec isn’t just Jace’s parabatai, he’s also Robert’s son and that Robert should be at least disturbed by that description. But Robert nods and taps on his tablet as if being told his firstborn got immolated was nothing but a vague disappointment. “I guess the pain knocked me out. I could feel it in Alec’s bones. His blood was boiling.” 

“And yet he’s alive?”

“Yes.”

“That much demonic energy should have killed him.” 

Jace shrugged. Edom was Magnus’ and Magnus would never hurt Alec, not really. Not directly. “I don’t think there’s an established precedence for what exactly the death throes of a demonic realm ought to do. It felt like Hell and I passed out. I woke up in Magnus’ loft. Alec was in one piece. He’s alive and I’ll thank the Angel for that.” 

“Of course,” Robert sighed and for a brief moment he actually looked his age, looked tired. Like juggling the Clave and the strings he held there was taxing instead of being the effortless dance he demanded from all his children. “Jace, I have to ask. You’ve spent probably the most time with the warlock, other than Alec. Did you ever notice anything... Troubling in him?” 

“Troubling?” Jace narrowed his eyes, suddenly defensive and suspicious. “Troubling how?”

“What he did in the city, those _wings_. One warlock, alone, taking on a Prince of Hell? It’s unprecedented. Everything we know indicates that only another Prince can have that level of power. And we can’t have a Prince of Hell just _walking_ around, can we? The implications would be devastating.”

“That’s low, even for you. Magnus saved us at the risk of his own life. You should be thanking him.”

“And I will! I will Jace. But there are questions being asked, about his influence on Alec, about the impossible thing he’s done. Questions that I can’t keep away from this Institute much longer. Keep from _you_.”

“Let them ask. Do you really think anyone could make Alec do something against his will?”

“Jocelyn Fairchild would like to testify to that.” 

Jace’s blood ran cold. They couldn’t, _wouldn’t dare,_ imply that the situation was anyway similar to that demonic possession. He remembered Alec up on that ledge, so wrecked by guilt that he’d considered offering his life in penance. As if that would have solved anything. As if Clary would have demanded his head on a plate. 

“Jocelyn trusted Magnus,” he said on the exhale, trying to get his lungs to cooperate again. The sad nod and the glint in Robert’s eyes told him the words were damning. Some small test he’d failed.

“Yes, she did. And look where that landed her.” 

“Did you need anything from my deposition?” Jace stood up, wiping his suddenly clammy hands on his pants. 

“If I have more questions I’ll send you a fire message. I’ll let you go back to your _duties_ now.” The inflection on the word duty was anything but benign. Robert’s official mask had slipped firmly into place. “Oh, and Jace? Please do ensure Alec comes in? It’s unbecoming of an Institute head to fail to address his own after-action report. Unless he is under care in the Infirmary, yes?”

Jace bowed slightly, not trusting himself to answer that. He flexed his hands into a fist, making the singed skin of his arm stretch painfully. By all rights, Alec should be bed-bound and moribund. The fact that he wasn’t was a miracle, some Angel’s blessing. _Wasn’t it?_

He walked the halls in a kind of blind daze, muscle memory taking over until he was standing in Ops. There was barely a skeleton crew around, people covering more stations than they really should. Everyone was exhausted, running on stamina runes and various mundane stimulants. Rainwright and Fullwinds nodded at him then cycled to the next station. Even in grief, even when Hell poured down on earth, New York would not fall. 

The sense of formless dread that had filled him in the office was still there. Jace took a deep breath, reaching for the Parabatai bond. He could feel Alec there, safe, worried but calm. His heartbeat was in sync with Jace’s: a phantom _thump_ under his ribs. It was _perfectly_ in sync, in ways it didn’t get even in battle, even in sleep. In ways that shouldn’t be possible, as he went through his day with Magnus, as he moved and existed _outside_ of Jace. Alec reached out to soothe him via the bond, strong fingers wrapping around his forearm, the way he had in the ceremony. 

“Jace, are you ok?” 

Izzy’s hand was on his shoulder, squeezing, but it felt foreign as if she was holding someone else. 

“Yeah, I’m fine.”

“Bullshit.” She pushed on his shoulder until he turned around and then pushed him again, down, into a chair. “You’ve been standing staring at nothing long enough that Rainwright came to get me. You’re covered in cold sweat and you’ve been clutching your side. What’s wrong.”

“I don’t know.” He looked at her, at the wide-eyed panic in her eyes that peaked through the exhaustion. “I don’t know,” he repeated to himself. 

“Are you hurt? Want me to call the medic?” 

“No, I’m not hurt I’m just… I think I need to clear my head, head—" _Home_ he wants to say but Magnus' loft had never been _that_ to _him_. "—back and check on Alec.”

“Dad has that effect on people. I’ll have Clary walk you back.”

“No,” he said, more forceful this time, pushing himself up. “You’re short-staffed as it is. I should be on duty, don’t make things worse by pulling Clary. I’ll be fine. I can make it to Brooklyn in broad daylight.”

“Fine. I’ll have Simon walk you then. He’s not a Shadowhunter, you can’t claim he’s on the roster.” Izzy grabbed him in a hug before he could argue. “Please. For me?” 

“For you,” he agreed. “Go ahead, call the babysitter.” 

Walking, actually walking on the sidewalks and weaving through the crowds, during the day was surprisingly pleasant. Jace was used to free-running, jumping from buildings to buildings where people seldom looked. Not that they could see him, under the glamour. So Simon’s insistence to go the mundane way was at least different.

Simon also had enough tact not to mention that Jace wouldn’t be able to keep up, for once. From the reflection Jace caught of himself in the windows along the way, he looked like death warmed over. 

Not that Simon was saying anything. The silent company might have been welcomed from someone else, or something Jace had wished for very loudly in the past. Now it was unnerving.

“Alright, come on, spit it out,” Jace said when he couldn’t take the silence anymore. 

“Spit what out?”

“Whatever it is you’re not saying.”

“What makes you say I’m not saying anything?”

“The fact that you’ve been silent for the last five blocks.” Jace grabbed Simon’s arm with enough force to spin him around. The human flow of the city adjusted around them with an audible groan and a few curses. 

Simon shook his arm free and moved to the side closest to the building, getting them out of the way. 

“What did you want me to say? Ask you how you are and force you to pretend you’re ok?”

“I… no.” Jace answered, taken aback. “You’re the only one that… you know what, never mind.”

“No, no this is important.” Simon ran a hand through his hair, scanning around them. “Come on, follow me.”

Following Simon meant a mostly empty coffee shop with a fat tabby cat on the counter. That had to be some sort of health violation. But the chalk-painted advertisement for free wifi meant omnipresent laptops and the assorted headphones meant it was mostly private. 

“Here you go,” Simon said as he placed a large ceramic bowl on the table in front of Jace along with a small plate holding biscotti. 

“What is it?” 

“The hot chocolate I wish I could drink. Enjoy it for me.”

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome!” Simon smiled with all his teeth as if the simple display of manners was the greatest compliment Jace has ever paid him. Maybe it was.

“Why are we here?”

“Tell me about Alicante.”

“Really? I just walked out of a debrief and you want me to go through that again?”

“Nope. Clary told me about that. Tell me about the good memories. The reasons why fighting was important.”

“Why? What do you care?”

“I care because what happened was a horror, and it’s not fair that you have to carry that with you. I can’t make it right, no one can make it right. You should have time to grieve for the lost ones, which frankly? From what I’ve seen of your people is probably not something you’re gonna get. Tell me the good memories, so they are not so distant and you can use them for strength.”

“When did you become the philosophical one?”

“I have my moments,” Simon answered with a shrug.

Jace wrapped his hands around the bowl, surprised to see his fingers could barely reach. The warmth against his palms soothed the pains of phantom aches he was used to dismissing. One sip told him the hot chocolate was just that: melted chocolate with hot milk. Nowhere near the watery powder-based things they had as a special treat at the Institute. 

“I was eleven the first time I ever went to Alicante properly. I remember being so amazed by it, everything was so big and beautiful and… purposeful I guess. There was a rune ceremony and the whole Lightwood family had been invited. I expected them to leave me behind, I wasn’t a Lightwood… but Maryse wouldn’t hear of it. She made sure I wore my best clothes and fixed my hair and she spent the evening introducing her _three_ children. 

“But after a while it was... Too many people. I was a little bit feral, back then.”

“You? Feral?” Simon interrupted with a soft smile. “Just back then?”

“Hey, be nice.” Jace playfully kicked Simon’s shin under the table, not hard enough to hurt. He smiled over the bowl of hot chocolate, taking a sip before continuing. “So Alec and I snuck out. We went up to the roof, just sitting on this tiled roof watching the stars and the demon towers. I’d never seen anything so… magical. These huge obelisks of crystal with fire trapped inside that flickered up and down. The light bounced off each other, some sort of communication maybe.

“Alec was exhausted. He fell asleep, leaning on me, trusting me not to let him fall. That’s where Robert found us. I got so scared for a moment like we were going to be in trouble. But he just climbed out the window to come sit next to us, without waking Alec. He’d grabbed some of the food from the buffet table, cheese, crackers, cookies. And we watched over the city for a while in silence. Eventually, we had to go back but that’s the first night I think I started to believe that I was safe with the Lightwoods. That they… wanted to keep me.” 

“Thank you for sharing that with me.”

“I haven’t thought back to that night in _years_.”

“Does it help?”

Jace shrugged. The memory was bittersweet with the benefit of hindsight. He was keenly aware that if the situation had been reversed, if he’d fallen asleep instead of Alec there would have been punishments doled out, consequences for the eldest. Because Alec should have known better. The thought churned in his guts, heavy in ways that had nothing to do with sugary drinks. Maybe there had been, and Alec had shielded him from that because he believed he deserved it. 

“A little,” he said at last. 

“Good. Got more stories you want to share?” 

“Sure.” 

They stayed there, with Jace talking and Simon mostly listening, through one more hot chocolate bowl, a soup and sandwich combo and more biscotti that was probably safe to eat in a day. When Jace ran out of words, not used to talking so much and so openly, they fell into long stretches of silence. It wasn’t uncomfortable now like it had been before. Simon was obviously trying to give Jace space, including in his own head. 

“We should go,” Jace said as the street light clicked on outside the window. “I didn’t mean to be gone this long. I really do want to check on Magnus and Alec.” 

“Sure thing,” Simon said as he gathered the dishes on their table to bring them back to the counter. Jace smirked. Maia had him well trained.

The nightfall brought a different atmosphere to the streets. People hurrying home, tired from work or their lives, eyes downcast and stepping faster. They ignored Jace and Simon as effectively as being glamoured, which suited Jace just fine. It also thinned the crowd, enough that other noises could filter through. Like the dry leather scratch of demon skins and claws coming through a gap in a door. Jace stopped, giving the parking structure a long look. He was off duty, someone would see this back in Ops. But there weren’t enough people to cover patrols properly. The sound came again. 

“Did you hear that?” 

“I can smell it,” Simon answered. “Want to go check it out?”

“Yeah. We’re here. Let’s take care of it.” 

The garage was dark. The glass crunching underfoot let Jace know that light fixtures had once tried their best against the gloom. There were few cars, and those left had a thick covering of dust that screamed of either long-term storage or abandonment. The hopeful part of himself wished for the former, as it implied the mundanes who owned the vehicles were still alive. 

“I can’t see it,” Simon said, turning around in a slow circle. He took a long inhale, partly through his teeth before continuing, “but I can taste it so it has to be close. Also, tastes disgusting. Like wet socks and ashes.” 

“Thank you for that information.” Jace slid a knife from his holster. It wasn’t a seraph blade, but there was adamas along the edge and, more importantly, none in the grip and the guard. “Here,” he said as he flipped it, offering the handle to Simon. “You probably don’t want to have to bite your way through this.” 

“Eww.” Simon took the knife without further commentary, holding it in a passable stance. Clearly, he’d been training with someone. There was work still to be done, but it was better than completely clueless and Jace would take anything that could improve his odds. 

They fanned out, looking behind the columns and the cars. One of the safety walls along the ramp to the lower basement was chipped, rocks and gravel still trickling from the break. Jace could see the swirling slithering proof of something being down there, something big. The ground was sticky, wet with oil spills and a leak in a water pipe, making tracks at once evident and impossible to follow. 

“I think I got something,” Simon called. His voice echoed on the concrete, distorted.

Jace turned around to try and identify where Simon had gone, but he couldn’t see him. Even with his night vision rune active it was as if the vampire had been swallowed whole by the shadows. 

“Si? Where are—” 

A mass of scales and claws slithered from a ventilation shaft above him. Instinct, training, or some subconscious reaction in his blood made Jace duck and sidestep. The claws aimed for his back and neck shifted with his movement, ripping down his side instead. Jace screamed as he spun around, seraph blade arcing bright now though he was striking blind. The edge bit into the demon’s flank but shallow, too shallow. Almost like it bounced.

Simon shouted again, but Jace couldn’t spare the concentration to look for him.

The demon hissed as it hit the floor, bracing for another attack. It was vaguely reptilian, with large leathery wings on its back. Its body was covered with scales the colour of petroleum: night black with a toxic rainbow sheen. It snarled and the open mouth betrayed rows of razor fangs. Deep in its throat something glowed in fiery reds.

Jace jumped as the stream of fire spilled from the demon’s mouth, hitting a car behind him. The car caught fire, providing much-needed light and choking smoke in equal measure. Jace spun in midair so that he landed still facing the demon. He smirked. This was a bit more of a challenge than he had expected, but he could take it. Maybe it was exactly what he needed to clear his head, get his blood pumping. Runes flared gold on his skin as Jace adjusted the grip on his sword.

The demon’s tail was whip-fast, snapping around Jace’s leg. It pulled, hard, and Jace lost his footing on the oil-slicked ground. He fell heavily on his back and the open laceration there. The pain punched the air from his lungs as his vision threatened to blackout. 

He brought his blade down, stabbing not slicing, and was rewarded with penetration as the adamas burned the flesh beneath the scales. The demon screeched. It turned around, coiling into itself to face Jace. Its claws dug into the concrete, leaving parallel gashes and chips in their path. The tail squeezed against Jace tighter, as if he’d only made it angry instead of hurting it. The demon locked eyes with Jace and in those eyes he could see both intelligence and hatred. 

Jace twisted the blade in the demon’s tail, pushing with all his strength until he felt the bone crack and the hold around his ankle loosen. There was a very human howl and a flicker of movement on the edge of Jace’s vision. Simon, running with all the supernatural speed he could muster, sticking his knife into the leather on one of the demon’s wings. 

The demon reared up on its hind legs, flaring its wings wide. The strength of it caught Simon by surprise, sending him flying into a concrete column with the sickening wet crack of broken bone. The demon turned to face Simon, fire gathering in its throat. Jace didn’t think, only reacted. He somehow got to his feet in time to cover the distance, throwing himself as a shield.

For the second time in two days, Jace _burned_.

Consciousness was probably a bad decision all things considered, but Jace had never let that stop him. He was laying facedown on something soft. Still alive. (He shut down the memory of bleeding out by the shore of the Lake, the cold, the certain inevitably of his Death.) Jace forced his eyes open, blinking as they swam in and out of focus until he could see the luxuriously tight weave of the hunter green sheets. _Should have been gold_ , he thought then frowned. Why gold?

"Don't try to move," Catarina said and Jace wasn't inclined to argue with her. His entire body was in pain. 

"Why am I here?"

"You were calling out for Magnus," Simon said. "Plus the loft was closer so I carried you here."

"Great." He tried to make it drip sarcasm, the defence mechanism an unconscious armour. In truth, Jace was relieved to hear Simon. He didn't sound hurt or injured. The pain was worth it.

"Patrol found you," Izzy added. Just how many people were in his room? "Sensors went wild in Ops. Why didn't you wait for backup?"

"In my defence," Jace groaned, “Dragonidae are supposed to be extinct.” 

“Are you sure that’s what it was?” Magnus now, but further away, almost out the door. 

Making the missing voice obvious in its absence. Jace reached for the Parabatai bound and Alec reached back, concerned but steady. Impossibly close.

“Yes, I’m sure Magnus. Alec, Izzy, and I ran into one a few years back… Everyone thought they were extinct back then too.”

“Suprise-rare demons makes sense, actually,” Simon said. “Meliorn told me they were seeing strange things in the fairy realms too. He said the rift Jonathan made wasn’t a clean cut, so it frayed on the edges of all the other realms too, like cutting layers of fabric.”

“Fascinating, if troubling,” Magnus said before being interrupted by Isabelle. 

“And you didn’t think to tell me that? How long have you known?”

“I figured you knew!” Simon said with some indignation. 

Jace groaned. Izzy was worried and that made her snap at people. They didn't need that right now. 

“Can I get some sleep?” he asked in a transparent ply to diffuse the tension in the room. 

“Of course,” Catarina said. “Isabelle, give me a hand to roll him on his side?”

Jace was rolled on his side, strong hands holding his shoulder and his hips as he hissed in pain. Then Izzy was tracing over his Iratze with her stele and he could have told her not to bother. The rune hummed and it muted some of the pain, too overused in one day to do much for the wounds. Catarina’s magic took over that part, running down his skin in a soothing ocean breeze. He heard Magnus and Simon leave, talking in hushed tones. Izzy left next, with a careful squeeze to his arm. Catarina was last, closing the door behind her. 

Alone in the room, Jace sighed as Alec ran his fingers through his hair like he used to do when they were kids. Soothing away another nightmare.


	3. Eclipse the Dawn

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter with the smut. 
> 
> If that's not your jam, you want to stop reading at "A rattle at the door pushed back theoretical concerns in favour of active worry."
> 
> There is a rather large chunk of plot that happens during the smut. I can give you the clean version if you reach out to me via Discord.

Magnus was loath to admit it, but he was fretting as people gathered in the living room. It was a miniature version of everything Alec had worked for: members of different factions of the Downworld -- missing a werewolf and wouldn’t Luke be just insufferable if he knew -- working together, cooperating with the Shadowhunters and keeping each other safe. The fact that Alexander -- his Alexander -- wasn't at his side to bask in the camaraderie chafed. Alec was leaning against the far wall, with his full glower on display.

“I have to head back,” Izzy said. “Can we portal Jace to the infirmary?”

“He’ll be unconscious for a while,” Catarina answered with her professional tone, the one that left no room for arguing. “A portal would be too risky.”

Isabelle frowned, seeking Alec’s eye by instinct before looking away sharply, almost as if what she caught in those eyes hurt her. “I don’t want to impose…”

“Nonsense,” Magnus said with a dismissive wave. “It is no trouble at all to keep an eye on your brother until Catarina deems him fit enough to portal. Besides, it’s not the first time he’s commandeered my guest room.”

The attempt at levity fell flat. No one was in the mood to laugh at the memory of Jace’s legendary talent for interrupting dates. Least of all Magnus.

“I’ll walk you home,” Simon said to Izzy. “Or hail you a cab, or walk with you through a portal, if you want.”

“Sure, Simon.” Izzy turned to face Magnus and Catarina. “Thank you, so much, for your help. I’ll call in the morning. And I’ll... I’ll make sure the Clave pays you.”

 _“It's what Alec would have wanted”_ hung unsaid in the air between them as Simon carefully wrapped an arm around her shoulders and walked them out of the door. Magnus flinched at the invisible jab. 

A scrape, leather against brick, warned him that his exhaustion had worn down his guard far too low. Edom prowled across the room to loom by Magnus' shoulder. It was predatory and protective all at once, sending mixed signals across the battered field of his grief.

“Magnus,” Catarina said with a careful edge to her voice. “A word?” 

She was standing in front of the bedroom’s door. No, not standing, guarding. Her magic coiled in the deadly deceptive calm he hadn’t seen from her in _years_. Catarina was one of the most gifted healers, but she’d walked through the same wars he had and wasn’t as defenceless as she let others believe. 

“Do we need to send a message to the Spiral Labyrinth about a possible incursion of Edomite demons?” 

Magnus narrowed his eye at the careful inflection on the words. Catarina wasn’t looking at _him_ , as much as she was looking at Alec.

 _Oh_. 

Her magic wasn’t as tied to Edom’s, or her senses blinded by overload. Magnus took a deep breath, made himself _see_ as she saw. The power that leaked from Alec was almost physical. It pressed on him in a directionless way, omnipresent, as it coated his skin, his wards, the loft, radiating beyond that. He could feel it reaching down to the leylines under the city, separate for now but it wouldn’t take much to breach that distance, to bind those as well to his will. He could taste the ozone at the back of his throat, the possibilities. The city could easily be his, along with most of the eastern seacoast. 

He could keep it safe, keep his city and his people safe. Because New York was his city, even if Lorenzo made a show of holding the office of High Warlock. He wouldn’t, couldn’t, challenge his dominion.

“Magnus?” Catarina again, worried, having moved no closer. 

Magnus blinked a few times, clearing his vision and reeling himself in, in, all the way back into his own body against the siren pull of power. Catarina’s hands were down by her side, tense and closed into fists. Ready to fight him, if it came to that. As fruitless as it would be.

“No,” he answered around the dryness of his mouth and the self-loathing that threatened to rob him of his voice. “The Shadowhunters are right, Dragonidae are most likely extinct. I believe this was... a freak encounter perhaps.”

“If you say so. Want me to stay to keep an eye on him?” 

Magnus appreciated the careful wording of the question, the vagueness in the pronoun. They both knew Jace wasn’t the one she wanted to keep under surveillance.

“I will call you if the situation changes,” Magnus said with a short shake of his head. “You can come and check in tomorrow.”

“First thing in the morning,” Catarina agreed. “I can portal myself in if you’d prefer not to be disturbed?”

“Thank you for the consideration.” Magnus snapped, adjusting the wards to let her in and out at will. “Good night, Miss Loss.” 

She nodded, curtly understanding the dismissal. She very carefully backed into the guest bedroom, closing the door behind herself. Her gaze never left Alec, until the slim protection of wood broke the connection. There was a shiver through his wards, a portal, and she was gone. 

** “You keep an interesting court.” **

“So I do.” Magnus narrowed his eyes as he turned away from the bedroom. He was the one standing guard now and the symmetry wasn’t lost to him. The expression on Alec’s face was hard to read. It was hungry, contemplative and utterly alien, twisting the features of his face into parodies of themselves. 

** “You make yourself vulnerable for them, letting them walk in and out of your castle at their whim. Be careful, they are weak and will drag you to their level. Asmodeus would never have allowed such indignity.”  **

It only took three sentences to bring Magnus back several centuries, to being a child by his father’s side, being taught and groomed and punished for even the smallest of slights. Long forgotten pain flared along his back, where the progression of his lessons had once been carved. 

“Do not presume to talk to me of my _father_.” 

**“He was my King for eons. I served him — as I serve you — for time untold. Why should I not speak of him who ruled before?”**

“You _do_ serve _me_ now,” Magnus snarled. “And I still have yet to see you treat me, and my wishes, in a way fitting royalty.” 

_Our blood is Imperial_ , whispered Asmodeus in Magnus’ mind. _In everything you do you must carry that, express it, never let them forget. Better that they fear you. You rule by the strength of your hold on the realm._

He’d thought his father meant demons when he was a child. But now he understood that Asmodeus had meant the realm — Edom — herself.

“I will make my wishes clear since it seems you cannot be trusted to understand a lighter hand. Those of my court — and any I choose to entertain within my quarters — are _not_ to be _harmed_. Not by you and certainly not by errant Edomite demons. Survivors might seek refuge in other demonic realms, but any caught in **my city** will be severely punished.“ He waited for a nod of acknowledgement. Edom parted her lips to answer and he raised a hand to silence her. “Furthermore, you _will_ remember that you are mine to command. You are neither my equal nor my consort.” His voice faltered on the last word. 

**“Yes, my king.”** Edom bowed and smiled darkly. 

Catarina came back the next day. She portalled into the guest bedroom as promised and was waiting there when Magnus joined her. He closed the door behind him, giving them the illusion of privacy. He had no doubt that sound would carry and any dampening he’d put up would be useless. One cannot ward against oneself.

“How is he?” 

“Stable, getting better.” Catarina looked up at Magnus, then down at Jace with a raised eyebrow. “Angelic runes and Nephilim metabolism mean they are usually good healers, but this one seems to be especially resilient.” 

Magnus looked down on Jace, sleeping or held forcibly unconscious by the wash of Catarina’s magic. His colour had improved and fresh pink skin was gaining ground on the raw reds and blacks of the burns. Along the edges, where the burns had been less severe, Magnus could see the faint outlines of runes. It seemed like they were rising, blooming through the new skin to where they had been originally branded. 

Catarina pulled her magic to lift and roll Jace. There hadn’t been much damage there, as he’d shielded Simon with his body. The iratze rune glittered in soft gold on Jace’s skin, activated by some unconscious reflex. As did the parabatai rune low on his stomach. Magnus gasped at the sight: a mirror twin to the one he’d traced often on Alexander’s skin.

“He should be on his feet by tonight at this rate. Make sure he eats something and drinks plenty of water. I’d prefer if he stayed on bed rest for a week, but we both know that’s not going to happen,” Catarina said as she gently lowered Jace to the bed as if he was any other patient. “I’ll check in again in the morning. Send me a fire message if he changes location. Do _not_ let him use that damn stamina rune to pretend he’s fine.” 

Magnus nodded. The parabatai rune was still there. It was still _there_. He’d held Alec as he’d collapsed when Valentine stabbed Jace. He’d seen it burn itself off, vanish without leaving a scar. And yet now… 

Because Jace was — in all the ways that mattered — a Lightwood, he fumbled his way out of bed by the late afternoon. It took three tries for him to crawl his way to the bathroom, but he refused help and balked at the idea of a bedpan. Magnus fully expected him to ask for a portal to the Institute so he could continue his recovery in his own room or within the Institute's infirmary. Instead, the Shadowhunter crawled his way back to bed from the shower and fell promptly asleep. 

In the days that followed, Jace simply… did not leave. He was a much better guest than the last time he’d stayed over, eerily familiar with the loft’s upkeep. When the call had come from the Institute to get cleared for duty he showed up at dawn. Tired, covered in ichor, but knocking on Magnus’ door with a quiet “please”. 

Magnus let him stay. Of course, Magnus let him stay. And if Edom had anything to say on the matter, she kept her own counsel. 

* * *

Jace was standing at one end of the rooftop terrace. That much wasn’t surprising, he’d taken to spending a lot of time outside, giving Magnus a wide berth. No, what was surprising was that Jace was on the roof without his sword or sparring mannequin. Instead, he’d dragged up a target and leaned it against the brick wall, a bit wobbly but Alexander used to say that was part of the fun. Jace was standing by the outer edge with a few quivers and a _bow_. 

As Magnus watched he knocked one of the arrows, pulling the string back in a draw in one smooth motion. Jace rested his fingers at the corner of his mouth, in the same curling grip Magnus remembered from Alec’s stories, the one that got him no end of grief from his instructors. Jace exhaled, back straight and shoulders back. He wasn’t shaking from the strain, as if this came naturally to him. Or maybe he had a strength rune active where Magnus could not see. In the space between his breaths, Jace released the arrow, sending it to fly towards the target. Not dead center, but Magnus had no doubt it went exactly where it was intended. A small constellation of arrows was already taking form on the wood, in dull glints and red feathers. 

He did it again, and again, before Magnus decided to risk breaking his concentration. 

“You should wear gloves.”

“I thought you liked the calluses.” 

The lilt in the voice, the raised eyebrow where Jace would have winked, the eyes in the falling light more hazel then blue. All of it hit Magnus like a suckerpunch and he could only stare with his mouth open. _Thunk_. The arrow sank in the target, barely a hair away from the previous one. 

“I do,” said Magnus when he remembered to breathe. 

“It’s ok,” Jace said as he drew a new arrow. “I figured it out and I have a plan. Everything’s ok, Magnus.” 

The string sang in the release and the new arrow sank into the target. Magnus felt something that was treacherously close to hope. 

The cold and uncaring ring of a cellphone broke the strange spell that had fallen over the roof.

"Go do your job, Shadowhunter."

Jace smiled at that, a blinding smile that looked so much like Alexander's. "You're not going anywhere?"

"No," Magnus said, comforted and taken aback in equal parts by the easy intimacy of the answer. "I am not going anywhere."

It was true. Magnus needed to check-in on Pandemonium, on the rest of the city, on Lorenzo and the rest of the warlocks. But that entailed leaving the loft. Sudden onset agoraphobia wasn't the issue. The idea of bringing Alec -- Edom -- outside of his wards was… terrifying. Like bringing an unstable nuclear warhead to a rave. The potential for collateral damage was too high.

He had everything he needed between his walls, with a killer view to boot. Eventually, he could figure out how to bring in customers, mundane and otherwise. Occupy his mind to keep away for the howling wrongness of this half-life. He could even figure out how to grieve for the very man whose arms cradled him at night.

The call, for him this time, was unexpected.

“Mr. Bane?” The voice was familiar, but Magnus couldn’t place it for a moment. Unknown number, with noise behind the speaker, a cacophony of cars and people, music spilling from a nightclub. 

“Yes?”

“Are you alone?” 

Magnus looked up, easily finding Alec in the apothecary. He was organizing, sorting the ingredients on the shelves and making careful notes of what stocks were low. Because Magnus had asked and because the simple act of service soothed something between them.

“Sufficiently,” Magnus answered, strolling casually to the balcony. He left the doors open behind himself, as to raise as little suspicion as possible. 

“That’s good.” Underhill. The voice matched the name in Magnus’ mind. The security officer at the Institute. The one who had given him the literal keys to the grounds, to Alexander’s room and office, all for the asking when he’d been weak and without his magic. “I don’t have much time. I don’t know what’s going on with Alec, but you have to get him on his feet. Tell him to come to the Institute first thing tomorrow.”

“I don’t think that’s…”

“Don’t tell me what’s going on. If I don’t know they can’t pry it from me.” Underhill stopped and took a deep breath.

‘Why aren’t you calling me from your desk?” Magnus asked in the uncomfortable silence that followed.

“Your file did say you were sharp. I’m calling to warn you. Aldertree… came back with some pretty spectacular accusation. About Alec... He says you’re covering for Alec’s death… About Jace too. He claims to have evidence, _video_ evidence that Jace was working for Lilith, that he did… horrible things.”

 _The Owl_ , Magnus thought. Aldertree knew — he knew and wouldn’t hesitate to use that knowledge. He’d go after Isabelle next, with the Yin Fen addiction. Break the Lightwoods as he would break New York, piece by piece.

“Shit,” Magnus said out loud.

“He is accusing Wayland of high treason. They’re going to send him to the City of Bones tomorrow, for interrogation by the Silent Brothers—” 

“They’ll have him de-runed,” Magnus completed the sentence. Dread ran through him. If Jace lost his runes, really lost them as they were taken away by his people under his laws… He’d lose the parabatai bond along with them. The last living part to the single purest soul Magnus has ever seen. Has ever loved. “How do we stop him?”

“We’ll need Alec. Break Aldertree’s credibility. Izzy is in a meeting with Clave representatives as we speak. I need to head back. She’ll be in touch when she can.”

“Thank you. For the warning.”

“I know who saved us.” The line went silent as Underhill hung up. Magnus stared over the city until, eventually, his cell phone shut off as well. 

** “Something is bothering you, my king?” **

Magnus sensed Edom’s approach in the way her magic surrounded him like a warm blanket. He was puzzling together the hurried warning, along with the shifting politics of the Clave and the tattered mesh of the New York Downworld. They couldn’t face a new massacre or more black bag purges.

“How much of Alec’s memories do you carry?”

** "I have tiptoed through the fields of his mind. His memories, all of his little feelings." **

Magnus turned his back on the city, tilting his head in appraisal. “Enough to convincingly play the role of him in front of Shadowhunters who have known him all their lives?”

“ **Of course,** ” she said. As Magnus watched he adjusted his posture, the set of his shoulders, the way he held his head. His eyes went softer, his smile less predatory, and he clasped his hands loosely behind his back in a reflexive parade rest, “You know I’d do anything for you, Magnus.”

"Good." 

Isabelle's fire message, when it came, was brief and told him nothing new. Writing back was too risky. He'd have to hope she would follow his lead in the morning.

His wards rippled over familiar angelic magic, enough to wake Magnus without being an alarm. He blinked away sleep, straining to look through the curtains to gather a sense of time. It was too early for patrols to be done, in the dark hours between midnight and dawn. Beside him, Alec stirred from the pretense of sleep, sat up and let the sheets cascade down to his waist.

The thud of Jace's boots was quickly followed by the jingle of his holsters being removed. There was no grunt of pain, or limp, nothing to indicate Jace was injured. But if he'd been looking for a change of clothes he’d have gone to the Institute, not here. 

A rattle at the door pushed back theoretical concerns in favour of active worry.

“Jace? Are you alright?”

“I am perfectly fine, Magnus,” Jace answered even as he grabbed the back of his t-shirt and pulled it over his head. “I wish I could do this in some other way, but we all ran out of time.” He dropped the shirt and started working on the buttons of his pants.

Several thought streams collided in Magnus’ mind. The first was a general, unwordable, sense of confusion and alarm. Not that he minded the sight of a mostly naked Jace. He had _eyes,_ for one. For another, he’d entertained some similar scenarios in the privacy of his fantasies, before truly getting to know Alexander and just what and who the two were to each other. The second was the sketch of a plan he’d cobbled together over the afternoon and early evening. 

“The inquest?” he asked. 

“You’re aware? Good, that should make things easier.” Jace was down to his boxers, socks removed and was _climbing into the bed_. He was crawling across the sheets, in that unfair way Shadowhunters had of being graceful when everyone else would be awkward at best.

Jace settled on his heels, straddling Alec’s legs and Magnus’ confusion just grew. Alec — Edom — was sitting very still, his hands clutching at the sheets. His eyes were very wide, possibly as wide as they’d been on their first date when Alec had been completely out of his depth. Only Edom was possibly as far from being a blushing virgin as one could be. 

“You’re going to want to avoid touching _me_ ,” Jace said with a wink to Magnus. “But you’ve got nothing to worry about.” 

Jace grabbed Alec’s head, his hands gentle as the thumbs traced along cheekbones and as long fingers sunk into black hair. Then, as gently, Jace pulled Alec to himself and _kissed him._ There was a rumble, a shockwave of power Magnus felt in his bones that rattled the walls of the loft before sinking down, down into the roots of the city. It left in its wake a lightness like a weight had been lifted from Magnus’ chest and he could take a proper breath for the first time in days. For the first time since Alicante. 

Alec, his eyes closed, was kissing back. 

" _What_ are you doing?" Magnus said. He could feel his magic rolling under his skin, threatening his control. He remembered Alexander, with the widest of smiles, accusing him of jealousy as they sat in his office. _I don't get jealous_ , he'd said. What a liar they were making out of him.

Jace pulled away, by a fraction, and leaned his forehead against Alec's. He looked at Magnus sideways, locking gaze with him. His eyes were blown, leaving only the thinnest rings of blue, brown and gold. “What do you know about the parabatai bond?”

Beneath him, Alec gasps a tiny, needy, whine until Jace's hands flowed down to rub at his back and sides. It sounded genuine. It sounded like something only Magnus had ever pulled from Alec, here in _their_ bed. Magnus wondered if he hadn't underestimated just how good Edom's mimicry was.

It wasn’t the question Magnus expected to be asked. He stammered through his surprise. “It… it binds souls. Meant to give you an edge in battle, better synchronicity, better instincts. And what you’ve told me about being able to feel each other. It hurts you to be apart.”

“Yes,” Jace said. “It’s having the other person living under your skin and never again being complete when you’re alone. We walk a very thin line and there is one thing that’s forbidden.”

"Love," Magnus said. 

" _Eros_ ," Jace corrected with a hum as he tilted his head, letting Alec kiss down his throat. Alec's hands no longer clutched the sheets. One was holding Jace's shoulder, the other grabbed at his waist with enough strength to leave dents in the skin. "Crossing that line. It can't be undone. It's not just pieces of the other's soul anymore."

"I've known parabatai so close they were almost the same person…" He’d said that before, about parabatais. Had seen it, the extreme of the fusional bound. Fear blossomed in Magnus' heart, spreading like ice in his veins. What Jace was talking about, and Magnus believed it, was pure soul magic. The kind of magical undertaking the Spiral Labyrinth didn’t dare allow to be studied. Not directly anyway. Any spell that required a sacrifice was in some way soul magic. But to blend the boundaries between two people, to merge them and all they are and to stretch that single soul into two bodies? It was as close a miracle as could be conceived. And what would be left, in the wake of that union? What and _whom?_

Jace hummed in agreement. He kissed Alec's temple, shushing him as he held him close. As if the goal was to negate any distance between them. If Magnus was right, it was. "I always knew Alec was in love with me. Could feel it through the bond. But it is nothing like the way Alec loves you. He loves you like a bonfire, like a nova star. It's blinding and pure and perfect."

“Jace, I…” 

“It’s ok Magnus, I’m not scared. And believe me, Alec is very much on board with this. He’ll be able to tell you himself soon. Can you trust me, him, us? Just for now?”

Silence stretched as Jace and Alec — some feral, animal part of Alec and none of Hell — looked at Magnus. They were waiting for him, for his approval on this madness, this pure crazy plan. Waiting for him to say yes to the one chance they had of keeping Alexander alive, in some sort. 

Magnus swallowed. Twice. The sound was impossibly loud in his ears, next to the jackhammer hits of his heart.

“What do you need me to do?” 

Alec growled and lunged, leveraging off the bed so that Jace was flat on his back and pinned. He bent down to kiss him, once, harsh and graceless, then moved to leave a trail of open-mouthed kisses down Jace’s torso. Both of his knees gripped around Jace’s hips so he couldn’t move. 

“Deal with the demon energy?” Jace gasped, eyes rolling to the back of his skull as Alec tilted his hips to rut against him. “Make sure we don’t burn down the city?” 

Magnus realized that, since the first shockwave of their kiss, he hadn’t felt Edom’s pull. He could feel his own magic still being buoyed, but there was no longer a sense of drive behind it. Magnus followed the ebb and flow of the power, traced it with a careful finger up Alexander’s spine. It was spilling from him, sluggish streams of black and purple. Flowing into Jace and Magnus both. Seeking refuge or maybe equilibrium.

A loud moan escaped Alec as Magnus' fingers left a trail on his skin. He shuddered with it and collapsed on top of Jace. He pressed against his parabatai, the long line of his body twitching as if there was still not enough contact. As if he wanted to crawl right inside of Jace`s skin, or have Jace crawl inside of his. 

“Touch him?” Jace said, panting now. The words were syrup slow and punched out of him. Jace’s eyes met Magnus’ before biting down Alec’s throat along his deflect rune. Not hard enough to leave marks, just hard enough to drive Alec wild. The way Magnus did on so many nights-days-lazy afternoons. The way Alec loved being touched. 

"How are you still talking?" Magnus asked because it was a safer question than the one that really pulled at the rapidly diminishing logical part of his brain. 

"Book Club." Jace winked at him. Whatever was meant to follow was silenced by Alec’s lips as he licked his way into Jace`s mouth. Devouring his words along with everything else.

Alec was making soft puppy-growls noises as if expressing anything beyond _want_ and _mine_ was beyond his reach. 

Jace, in contrast, was almost too self-possessed. He moved slowly, holding back as much as he could. He was also going through the list of all the buttons that would drive Alec wild, all the secrets it’d taken Magnus months to map and discover. Things Jace had no way to know. Unless… Alec moved, shifted down to bite the meat of Jace’s pectoral, then lapped at his nipple. Jace arched in reaction, bucking wildly and almost throwing Alec off. He gasped and closed his eyes, holding back, settling down. When he opened his eyes it was to look at Magnus over Alec’s shoulder with an eyebrow raised in challenge. 

_“Do you know me better than I know myself?”_ Alec teased wordlessly. 

Magnus heard it loud and clear, both of their voices resonated in his mind. _Challenge accepted_ , he thought back. 

He leaned towards them, very careful to avoid touching Jace’s hips or legs. Magnus bent until he could kiss the nape of Alec’s nape, savour the salty bite of the sweat there. And then, slowly, he started down Alec’s spine, trailing warm kisses, tracing the edge of runes with his tongue. He ran his hands across Alec’s shoulders and dug his fingers into the muscles there. He knew that’s where Alec carried all of his tension and that the release alone was enough to make him weak. 

“Fuck,” Jace breathed out in a stretched out moan. “I can feel it. Oh fuck, don’t stop.” 

Magnus smirked. He moved down from Alec’s shoulders to his arms, digging at the muscles and tendons. Alec snarled and all but threw his arm at Magnus, fingers flexing to grab a hold wherever he could. Magnus lifted the offered hand to his lips and kissed the palm with reverence. The new twisted way he contorted himself made it impossible for Magnus to continue his assault on his back without touching Jace, so he settled to hold Alec’s hand, and carding his fingers through Alec’s hair.

The pull on his magic was distracting. Not quite as distracting as the absolute vision in his bed, as Alexander lost to lust rutting against Jace, drowning in whatever mirrored sensations that echoed like feedback between them. But close. He could feel the energy growing between them. It was falling inward like the contraction before an explosion. This is what Jace — Alec? — had asked him to deal with, Magnus realized. It wasn’t just demonic energy. It was tinted with the fires of Edom and some of his own magic, but the core was something uniquely different. Something that was purely Jace and Alec, that the world had never seen before and would never see again.

It was breathtakingly beautiful. 

Alec made a long whiny sound almost like the whistle of a pressure valve. It was muffled by skin as he bit Jace’s chest again. Jace’s hand grabbed the back of Alec’s head, holding him in place. Magnus could feel the warmth radiating from Jace as he took his own hand away, taking refuge down Alec’s spine.

“That’s it,” Jace babbled, head thrown back and eyes closed. “Come on Alec.”

That small encouragement was all that Alec had been waiting for. His hips stuttered and he tensed with a sobbing cry. Below him Jace arched, pulling Alec down. 

The jealous part of Magnus roared at the sight, at what he was allowed to happen. The rest of him felt humbled. Maybe a little bit thankful that he was trusted enough, loved enough, to be a witness to their union. He could feel it as they reached the crescendo of their white-out bliss. The force that had been building up reached critical mass and shattered.

Magnus wished it had been raining outside, as time ceased to hold dominion on the room. Everything went still except for him, the entire city immobile, even the faint whisper of the ley line’s flow silenced. The moment hung suspended, balancing on a knife’s edge of choice. His choice. The Nephilims had already made theirs, using taboo and forbidden soul magic in some hail mary plan. Because they had faith in _him_. On the other side of that coin stood Edom. She was staring at him, furious and regal. Her golden eyes shone in the darkness of the room as she draped herself in the regalia of her own power. It would be easy to choose her. She was familiar: she was his past and the careful grooming of his youth. 

“I choose him,” Magnus whispered. 

Edom fractured with a banshee’s scream. The rest of the unnatural stillness followed: fissuring and expending in fractal crystalline cuts. The detonation held enough rage to scorch the world down to ashes. It would if left unchecked. Magnus reached, stretching his considerable control to channel his namesake destruction. He spun magic over magic, his, the angelic overflow, cinching with the bounds of forbidden love. Over and over until Edom was muffled and trapped like an insect in amber. Magnus could still feel the bone-deep thrum of her power; he would never be free of her now and neither would Jace and Alec. If they came to regret this day…

Magnus used the terror of the mere idea to drive the excess energy down, down, _down_ , and into the ley lines. Part flooding, part replenishing and not completely unlike what he had done to break Lilith’s corruption. What if he hadn’t done that then, would he be able to accomplish this, now? Would he have needed to? In a world where he and Alec had never come together, would he even have portaled to Alicante, would he have resisted the urge to claim the throne?

Then it was gone. The vision of Edom and the thunderous energy. The sound of the city roared back against the windows. Alexander gasped, limbs twitching and he rolled off Jace, off the bed and unto the floor. Magnus has seen him react like this before when sensory overload became too much for him and the feel of anything against his skin was too much. 

“Alec?” Jace croaked, his voice raw and broken. Had he been screaming? “Alec you still with me?” Jace rolled to his side, curling his legs inward as he looked down at Alec.

“Yeah. I’m here. I’m here…” Alec took a shuddering breath. “Magnus?”

 _“Alexander?_ ”

Alec scrambled from the floor, all but throwing himself on the bed and stopping only a hair’s breadth from Magnus. As if now, kneeling naked with his hair wild and covered in both sweat and the quickly cooling proof of how much he had been enjoying himself, he felt abashed. 

“I am so sorry, Magnus. I’m sorry. I couldn’t stop her, I wasn’t strong enough. I saw and I… I felt everything, everything she was doing and I couldn’t stop it--”

Magnus closed the distance between them, stopping the flow of apologies and self-recrimination with a kiss. Alexander kissed back like a man starving. Magnus weaved his magic around them, a cleaning spell he’d done so many times. His magic sang as it sunk into Alec’s skin. It felt like coming home.

A sharp, startled gasp reminded Magnus that they weren’t alone. 

“I should go,” Jace said from his edge of the bed. “Leave you guys to… Yeah. I can see you tomorrow at the Institute?” 

For all that he was saying the words out loud, Jace didn’t move. He’d curled into a fetal position, hugging his knees to his chest. It made him look smaller, almost fragile. Like a lost child, Magnus thought. There was pain radiating from him, a stale mix of fear and rejection. Magnus frowned. He could feel the undercurrent of emotions. They were distinct enough from his own and from the slight… amusement from Alec, now that his panic had subsided. 

Interesting. Magnus looked into Alec’s eyes, seeking confirmation, and was rewarded by a slow adoring smile.

“You don’t have to go,” Magnus said. He kept his voice low and soothing. Alec nodded approvingly and slowly untangled himself from Magnus, moving to the far edge of the bed away from Jace. It was slow and deliberate, giving Jace and Magnus space. Even the illusion of privacy. 

Jace snorted a humourless laugh. “It’s ok. Nobody wants a third wheel on their ‘by the Angel’ you’re alive’ moment. Kinda like raining on a parade.”

Magnus curled around Jace, pressing himself against Jace’s back and reaching across his stomach to hold him there. He nuzzled against Jace’s neck, taking slow deep breaths and focusing on feelings of safety and belonging. Jace ran hotter than Alec, radiating heat. His scent was slightly different, it held something like iron shavings in it. Maybe from his angelic blood. He was clean too. Cleaned by the same magic Magnus had spun for Alec.

“How did you know Edom wouldn’t hurt you? When you walked in?"

“You forbade her,” Jace said. He’d tensed when Magnus had touched him but he was pressing back in the hold, almost melting into it. “So she couldn’t do anything to me directly. I figured the reaction from before was mostly your magic, seeking Alec."

“And how did you know that? You were comatose at the time.”

“I heard it,” Alec said. “I heard it all.”

“Hmm,” Magnus shifted minutely, enough that his lips brushed against Jace’s neck as he spoke. “Which is how you figured out the bond was still active. You two planned to bind yourselves together and tangle Edom in the chain reaction.” Alec sucked in a sharp breath as Magnus spoke. He could feel it too. “That was very brave. And smart."

Jace shuddered from the praise. Curse the Clave and the way they broke their children. Magnus could feel the echoing reaction from Alec. Sharper maybe. Because he had more practice reading his dark and broody Shadowhunter. But Magnus could learn.

“The thing you’re going to have to realize, Jace,” Magnus continued, “is that you didn't just bind Alec and you closer than you were before. You got me as well.”

“Aw shit, Magnus, I’m sorry.” Jace craned his neck, looking at Magnus with red-rimmed eyes. He’d been crying, or close to it, and trying to hide it.

“Who said I was?” 

Like he had done with Alec, Magnus silenced Jace's answer by claiming his mouth in a kiss. Unlike Alec, however, he had something to prove. He kissed Jace soft and slow until Jace gasped and let him in. Magnus kissed Jace until he took his breath away, condensing an entire courtship and seduction into one soft touch of lips and tongue.

"I will not send you away," Magnus said as he pulled back. "For as long as you want to stay." 

Jace scrambled to catch his arm before Magnus could move from him and held him in place. Jace's fingers dug into Magnus's forearm, locking him in place in a variation of the way he'd held Alec's arm when they'd spoken their oaths. He didn't question where the knowledge came from. 

"You mean that?" 

Magnus nodded his answer. It was getting hard to find words against the emotional turmoil that flowed from Jace. Doubt, gratitude, hope, self-loathing, desire. Through it all was the most steadfast of threads: Alexander's love burning magnesium bright and steady. 

Something passed between Alec and Jace, just out of reach from Magnus. He didn't try to chase it. Their bond would always be deeper, older, and he found that he was fine with that fact. All of his earlier jealousy had evaporated away.

"Are you sure?" Jace asked, out loud for Magnus' sake.

"Of course, I am. If I love Magnus with all I _am_ , why would that exclude _you_?"

“Thy people shall be my people…” Magnus whispered. He’d heard the oath before when Alec had been at the brink of death and Jace had called him back. He hadn’t understood it, until now.

“Oh,” Jace said. And then Magnus was being pinned to the bed by the solid weight of him, by demanding kisses and somehow strangely shy roving hands.

Magnus kissed Jace back when he was given the chance, but Jace’s mouth was rarely still and moved from his lips to his neck and chest in desperate patterns. 

A hand heading south and tickling along his abdomen reminded Magnus that he was lying, in his bed, between two astoundingly beautiful men. And that while they had found their release in each other, he very much hadn’t. He wanted and he _ached_.

The thought melted into a whiteout bliss and a moan as warmth and heat swallowed him. Magnus raised his head to stare down at Alexander, who winked at him as he went for a long slow lick up his cock, swirling his tongue against the head. 

“You’ll be the death of me,” he said before his mouth and breath was stolen by Jace. 

_“Not yet,”_ he heard in his mind, followed by _“just a little”_. He had no idea who had sent what through the bond. 

Magnus reached down to tangle his fingers through Alec’s hair. He tried not to take control, to let Alec set the pace as he bobbed up and down in all the ways he had been practicing. A particularly deep swallow, where the sudden pressure of Alec’s throat around his cock punched a choked moan from him, made him grab and pull at the strands. 

Jace hissed against his nipple, looking up at Magnus with his eyes somehow wider and wilder. “Do it again,” he said. 

“Do what—” Magnus started then he understood. He pulled against Alec’s hair, careful not to rip any hair out but firmly enough that they strained against his scalp. Jace’s eyes rolled as he moaned, stopping and gasping for breath when Magnus relented. _How interesting_. 

“I can feel it,” Jace said. “I can feel all of it.”

Then the heat of him was gone from Magnus’s side. He shimmied down to join Alec near the foot of the bed. 

And they… they were kissing. Slow open mouth kisses, licking into each other without any once of urgency. Each and every one of those kiss, of those tongue strokes, somehow on, and around, his cock. 

“I'm not going to last long,'' Magnus panted, a bit desperately. He could feel the pleasure pooling at the base of his spine, drawing his balls up and taut. 

“Then don't,” Alec said. 

“We don’t mind,” Jace added. “We’ll know who’s won anyway.”

Competing. They were competing to see who could make him come first. As if there was anything in him that could fight back now, between the magical exhaustion and the perfect decadence of the show they were putting on for him. 

Magnus fell back against the pillows and closed his eyes. He let the pleasure wash over him, wave after never-ending wave. He pulled Alec’s hair a few times to enjoy hearing Jace moan, then that was out of his capacity. He floated in the twin pull of their mouths until the pleasure crested and he came with a shout.

The bed jostled, and then he was warm and being held by his Shadowhunters on all sides, limbs tangled over and under him. It was perfect.


	4. Who makes this right?

MAGNUS

Magnus woke up still warm, his head pillowed on someone’s chest. The heart beating under his ear matched the rhythm of his own and of the ones that he could sense but were not really there. He shifted until he could nuzzle at the neck above his warm pillow. 

“That tickles,” Alexander said behind him. His hand sought Magnus’ own and interweaved their fingers, squeezing. 

“Will it go away?” Magnus asked against Jace’s neck. He didn’t want to open his eyes, debating the value of falling asleep.

“Eventually,” Jace said. “It’s stronger than when we took our oath, but in a couple days it should settle down. There're training exercises to make it easier. And we’re not going to be going through puberty at the same time, so that’s a plus.” 

Images flashed through Magnus' mind, plans for how exactly he could help them differentiate direct sensations and ghosts through the bond. Both Shadowhunter groaned, sensing the intent if not the content of his thoughts. Magnus chuckled and patted Jace in reassurance. Not today, they didn't have time. But maybe soon.

The reminder of what "today" entailed brought Magnus all the way back from the happy endorphin haze where he’d been floating. He rolled on his back, still holding Alec’s hand and opened his eyes. 

Light filtered from the window. An hour past dawn, maybe two. It was hard to tell in the transitional period as autumn started to give way to winter and leaden skies. Above the bed, the ceiling sparkled. Magnus blinked a few times to chase the sleep haze from his vision. It wasn’t an effect of the light or of his vision. The entire room was filled with bright filaments, looping and crisscrossing like some cat’s cradle made of spun amethyst. Magic. Untrained, unfocused, serving no purpose than its own delight. As he watched a new string rose, connecting two points and changing the pattern. It had a faintly golden undertone.

“How long have you two been at this?””

“A while?” Alec said. He flicked the fingers of his free hand, twisting one of the other threads to make a knot. His magic had slightly darker purples and a bright silver flash as it moved.

“Beautiful,” Magnus whispered. There was no harm in letting them play here within his wards and away from prying eyes. They’d need tutelage and training, sooner rather than later. Shadowhunter training probably gave them enough innate control to reign their new magic in, hide it from sight when they were needed. The Downworld _might_ have been ready for Warlock-Nephilim hybrids — after all the Seelie already blended angelic and demonic traits. The Clave most certainly wasn’t and wouldn’t be for _at least_ two generations. 

“I wish we could show Izzy,” Alec said, speaking Magnus’ thoughts out loud.

“And Max,” Jace added. There was a resigned melancholy to the words and it settled over them, dimming the spark in the tangled threads until they fell and dissipated like cotton candy smoke. 

“What’s the plan, then?” Magnus asked in a blatant redirection attempt. “If you’ve both been watching me sleep for a while I suppose you came up with one?”

“Didn’t want you to wake up to an empty bed,” Alexander said a tad pointedly. “We’re actually running late. We needed to head out to the Institute an hour ago.”

“Well then. Don’t let me slow you down. Go on, get dressed to impress. I will get you there. But—” Magnus paused until their attention was fully on him. “—I reserve the right to take you out for a proper meal afterward. Brunch with mimosas and pancakes that are not just sad flour.”

“Deal,” Alexander said. He leaned over to give Magnus a kiss and then both Shadowhunters were scrambling away, racing to showers and to borrowed dressers filled with stockpile clothes. The bed felt vast and cold almost immediately. 

Magnus hummed as he stretched. Maybe he could reorganize the loft, stretch the bedroom so that the extra dresser from the guest bedroom could fit, as well as a proper weapon’s rack. He harboured no illusion that any of them would want to sleep separately in the coming nights. It should have felt strange, rushed. But all he could feel was warm contentment. 

Magnus took his time getting dressed, picking an outfit he knew Alexander loved _(Alexander loved all of his outfits even better once on the floor)_ but that wouldn’t be too flashy or distracting. He was aiming for stately elegance and self-assured power. 

With just enough eyeliner to draw focus to his eyes and some shimmer in his hair because there were minimum standards.

“You’re beautiful,” Alec said, dropping a kiss on his cheek. “You're always beautiful."

"Thank you Alexander. But I can assure you you don't need to sweet talk me. I am already smitten."

"Yeah, well, can the flatterer and his tiger get a move on? We're behind schedule," Jace called out from the foyer. The was an undercurrent of fondness in him layered with the tingly adrenaline of anticipation.

"Is he?" Magnus started.

"Always this trigger happy? Yeah. That doesn't go away."

"I heard that!"

Magnus laughed at the outburst. 

“There is a famous quote, about how a magician is never neither late nor early, but arrives precisely when he means to. This applies to warlocks as well, I should say.”

“I’ve never heard that,” Alec said, walking ahead of Magnus to stand by Jace in the foyer. 

“Pity. I’ll have to make sure you get to see the movies at least.”

Magnus paused as he stepped outside of the bedroom. Alec and Jace were both dressed in their patrol leathers, their full arsenal in place. They waited for him in parade rest, backs straight and heads high. This was a conscious choice. They both had casual clothing here, or even outfits that fell between business chic and dress uniforms. They’d opted instead to present themselves as Soldiers of the Clave, ready and willing to fill their duties. Competent and as lethal as any of those that meant them harm. It had no right to be pushing as many buttons in Magnus as it did.

“Well then,” Magnus said to no one in particular, just to fight the sudden dryness in his mouth. 

He snapped his fingers, summoning magic and spinning it in the familiar swirl of a portal. He visualized a spot inside of the Institutes’s glamour so that the mundanes wouldn’t see them arrive. Close enough to the actual wards without punching through. Proving a point, politely. Not that the wards weren’t keyed and maintained by him and would truly oppose his passage.

Portal magic was temperamental and subject to whims, but it did not usually present as a challenge to Magnus. However, his magic wasn’t usually joined by sudden additional streams. Purple joined his tarnished gold, jumping and sparky in beautiful joy. It tickled up Magnus’ spine and down his fingers, chasing his magic like puppies running after a ball. It was adorable and an absolute disaster. 

“I didn’t mean—” 

“—to do that.” Jace finished Alec’s sentence. 

Magnus smiled to hide his wince. A lot of tutoring. He missed Dorothea and her patience now, more acutely than he had since her death. She would have loved the challenge even as she teased him endlessly. A one-soul-at-a-time kind of guy. Technically he still was. Just that the soul was stretched between two bodies. 

He let the magic dry up and fizzle in a soft ramp down. “It doesn’t matter. I know an excellent towncar service.”

The shine of chrome and hand-waxed black paint wouldn’t send the same message. But it’d be a message in and of itself. 

Jace and Alec spent the ride through morning City traffic alternating between gazing out of the tinted window and having a hushed conversation that consisted mostly of shrugs and eyebrows. Anxiety sparked as they neared the Institute. 

“What do you need me to do?” Magnus asked to diffuse the tension. “You can always ask.”

“Could you… wait outside?” Alec asked.

“Wait for us?” Jace asked at the same time. 

“I can.. but I have to ask, why?”

“The Clave is trying to paint you as… dangerous and corruptive,” Jace answered. “So we can’t have you fighting this battle for us. It would play into their hand, let them say Alec and I are puppets to your alleged schemes.”

Magnus hummed. He could see how it made sense, in a very sad way. They would have enough distractions between the overstepped parabatai taboo and concealing their nascent magic. “Alright. With a caveat. I’ll be right here. And if I sense distress from either of you through the bond I will walk through those doors and burn the Clave to cinders.”

“Thank you, Magnus,” Alexander said with a smile so dazzling it was blinding.

If Alexander asked him to lead armies and bring the world to heel, he only had to smile like that to get what Asmodeus never had: Magnus' enthusiastic consent. Alec winked at him. He knew.

* * *

JACE

Leaving Magnus behind was both harder and easier than Jace expected. It helped that he could still feel the buzzing presence of him under his skin. It was so different than the steady thrum of the bond with Alec. Less settled, more like some wild thing. It was mildly intoxicating. 

The distance helped, as they walked up the steps and through the Church’s door. The glamour shivered around them and the wards settled on their shoulders and then were gone. That was new. He couldn’t usually feel them, not to this degree.

Voice raised in anger echoed on the stone, warning of issues in Ops. Jace slowed his pace a fraction, falling behind and to the right of Alec. They had a very narrow margin for success and it wouldn’t hurt to show both deference and loyalty.

“You have no proof!” Robert exclaimed. He wasn’t shouting, not yet, but his voice was raised. Jace flinched on instinct at the tone, felt Alec brace at the implication. “I have humoured you long enough in even opening an investigation. However, I will not send this city into a Civil War based on your instinct.”

“I expected more from you. I’m talking about giving your son a proper mourning ritual and you are worried about the reactions of, of them?” Aldertree spat the last word with as much disdain as he could, coated with all the hate he held for the Downworld. He wasn’t even making an effort to hide it.

“I think a funeral might be going too far,” Alec said. “I needed rest but not that badly.”

A hush fell over the room like a wave. Alec rarely needed to raise his voice, it carried naturally and people — his people — listened. Every Shadowhunters in the room dropped the pretense of not listening to the very public spat and turned toward Alec in obvious relief.

Aldertree stuttered as he turned towards Alec, his eyes wide with shock. Robert hid a quick smile and then turned, Clave Envoy mask firmly back in place. 

“If you weren’t dead you were well enough to handle your duties as acting head,” Robert said. “Care to explain why you failed at those.”

“I didn’t,” Alec said with the cold vicious smile he’d perfected when he was far too young for it. “I delegated. It's a useful skill, once you've established that your people are competent."

Proving his point, Underhill pushed past the still fuming Aldertree to hand Alec a few folders. 

“New Patrol formations and schedules for the rest of the month as everyone with family in Alicante is being allowed to attend Mourning,” Underhill said of the first, thicker folder. Alec flipped through it, scanning the many, many, requests for compassionate leaves. Grief wafted from him. So many deaths and broken families. “And this is a leyline incident that almost blew out our sensors. There doesn’t seem to be any damage but we’re monitoring.”

Leyline incident. _Shit_. Jace scuffed his boot against the floor, using his training to remain otherwise steady. Aloof. There wasn't much he could do about the blush he felt rising to his face, or the matching one on Alec's neck. Not silent enough. The shift and the sound caught Robert’s eye and he frowned looking at Alec. 

“It’s been handled,” Alec said, unperturbed. 

“Handled,” Aldertree sneered. “More likely created by your pet warlock, the epicentre was in Brooklyn.” 

“Say what you mean to say,” Jace snarled.

“He’s not a pet,” Alec said, raising a hand to block Jace. 

“I don’t need to insinuate anything. Nothing mortal, nothing _natural_ could have survived the blast as the rift closed. There are enough witnesses to _that_.”

“I never claimed to be a _mundane_ ,” Alec chuckled. “Angelic blood is, technically speaking, as unnatural as demon’s blood.”

It wasn’t the direction Aldertree had expected and he gapped at Alec, forming unvoiced words. If he argued for the superiority of angelic blood, he’d be embracing some of The Circle’s very teaching. And while Aldertree didn’t argue with the _core_ of those ideas, he was too smart to embrace them in front of a crowd he couldn’t order around. 

“Am I meant to ignore your disappearance after the fight, the complete radio silence and refusal to communicate with the Clave at a critical moment, only to reappear after some ungodly magical eruption?”

“As you just so mentioned, I’ve been recovering from a major fight with a Prince of Hell.”

“The second one,” Jace added, matter of factly. He was enjoying seeing Aldertree squirm. “Don’t forget that you single handedly banished Azazel what… two months ago?”

Murmur spread around the Operations room, confirming. They remembered that, had expected much more of a fight than one lucky arrow.

“Right,” Alec continued. “So, how can I convince you I am not whatever ghoulish creation your mind created…” 

Alec slowly reached for his seraph blade, removing it from its holster and holding it straight down, his arm outstretched. The blade glowed steadily in his grip. 

“If I was some… homunculus, adamas should be burning me, should it not?”

“Your… your own weapon could easily have been tampered with.”

Alec rolled his eyes at the muttered accusations. “Rainwright,” he called down. “Hand me your blade, please.”

Rainwright jumped to her feet, crossing the room in three quick strides, she presented her blade to Alec pummel first, without any hesitation. Alec grabbed it in his left hand and raised it enough to show everyone that there was no hiss from the adamas. Just the glow of the angelic weapon.

“This proves nothing. Party tricks. I demand you come to the City of Bones and the Silent Brothers can—”

“ **Enough**.” Alec’s voice now is strong, the way he stopped Maryse once, on the day that should have been his wedding. It’s as effective now, shutting Aldertree to stunned silence.

“I agree with the Head of the New York Institute,” Robert said. He stressed the title, not _acting_ Head but legitimate, fully empowered Head. “I will be reporting to the Clave just how your accusations have been wasting resources already stretched thin. I do not think they will look gladly upon this waste.”

Alec handed the blade back to Rainwright, holstered his own. “Was there anything else? I’ll be back on full duty, as discussed, on Monday.” 

“I need you to sign a few of those leaves,” Underhill jumped in. “And since I have you I want to check a patrol route or two with the revised personnel. Everything else I will run through Isabelle.” 

“Sure.” Alec stepped away with him to the map, flowing into the leadership spot without a ripple. Alec smirked. There would be a few other small requests as New York flocked to Alec. They trusted him, not because of his rank but because he was that good. 

“I will be making a full report as soon as I return to Alicante,” Robert said to Aldertree. “I suggest you start either working on your defense or getting your affairs in order for a transfer.”

He didn’t wait for an answer, turning on his heels in a way that clearly meant Aldertree had been dismissed. “Jace? A word?” 

“Of course.” 

Jace followed Robert with a sardonic wiggly fingered salute at Aldertree. 

“You should ask Izzy,” he said as they walked. “She has some fascinating information about what exactly Aldertree has been up to. If you need more nails for his coffin.”

“She said something to that effect days ago. I’ll follow up with her before leaving.” 

Robert turned and gestured Jace to enter the room. Jace was mildly confused. He’d expected them to head to the office, or an office. Not to Jace’s own room. And certainly not to have every sound blocking rune activated behind them and the door locked. 

“What. Did. You. Do?” Robert asked, putting heavy emphasis on each word. “I can protect you if you tell me. Did Alec… pressure you into this?” 

“Did he… what?” Jace sputtered, turning to face Robert — in all the ways that mattered his _dad_ — in disbelief. “What are you talking about?” 

“Massive magical spike. I’m sure if I pull the sensor reports there will be an angelic signature. Centered around Magnus Bane’s apartment. I’m not an idiot Jace. No matter how powerful he is, no warlock can _create_ angelic energy.” He stopped, took a deep breath. “You and Alec are…” Robert stopped, unable to find words.

“Are what?” He asked because he needed to gain time. Time to think. Of course Robert knew. There were fewer and fewer Shadowhunters who went for the Parabatai ceremony. There had been too much heartbreak in the last generation. Luke. Michael. 

“I know that pull Jace, the appeal. But it is _forbidden_.”

“Sure you know. You know so well that you ran away so hard and so long that you didn’t even feel it when my father died.” Jace waited for the words to sink in, the accusation. “When Valentine had me, Alec almost killed himself, tracking me. Fighting for me. You blamed him for it. You know, I wonder if that’s because you were ashamed of the choices you’ve made.”

“That’s nothing alike—”

“Isn’t it? You made a choice. We made ours. But based on track records, I don’t think you get to judge us. You were part of the Circle, same as Mom. Whatever strings you pulled to avoid getting exiled when she did…”

“Are you threatening me?”

“No. But I won’t let you threaten Alec either.” Jace took a deep breath, letting the anger run out of him, untangling years of emotional pain. He had to keep control here. Just a bit longer. “You took me in and I’ll forever be grateful. But you always… favored me over Alec. And I don’t know if it’s because I reminded you of Michael or of yourself. But I’m not blind. None of us are blind… Izzy. Even Max. But here’s how you make that right. Keep… whatever theories you have out of your reports.”

“You’re asking for a get out of jail free card.”

“Yeah. Just the once. Give us time. _I’m_ ok. Alec is ok. We’re _fine_.”

“And once the dust has settled?”

“They’ll have plenty else to talk about.”

Robert took a long hard look at Jace. Then let out his breath in a huff. “You’d better know what you’re doing. The rumors are already flying.”

“Gossip isn’t new,” Jace shrugged. “We can handle it.” 

“By the Angel I hope so.”

Jace clasped Robert’s shoulder and waited for a heartbeat until the man nodded. He’d keep their secret, for now. Out of self-preservation or shame, Jace didn’t know but he didn’t care. 

Alec was scanning through reports when Jace walked back through Ops. He gestured towards the door with his head, without stopping. Within a few strides Alec had caught up, unfair long legged advantage, walking at his side like he always would. 

The daylight was almost blinding when they pushed open the heavy oak doors. The air was crisp and fogged their breaths on the exhale. The towncar was exactly where they had left it. Magnus leaned against the side of the car, legs crossed at the ankle and thumbing through something on his phone. The light glinted off the buttons of his coat, the glitter in his hair. He looked up at the noise, smiling wide and bright.

He, as promised, had been waiting to take them to brunch. And to all their tomorrows.


End file.
